1=4 


m\m\\\\\M\' 


WERNER'S 


RECITATION? 


No. 
10 


AMERICA'S 
RECITATION 
ROOK     .     .     . 


EDGAR  S  WERNER       i 

NE»W  YORK  j 


£1 


IMF 


Published  by 

EDGAR  S,  WERNER  &  GO. 


NEW  YORK 


Copyright.  1892.  by  Edgar  S.  Werner. 


I  n 


,t  RIDDLE 


FRANCES  AYMAR    MATHEWS'S 


COflEDIES 


20  cents  each 


"  ALL  FOR  SWEET  CHARITY."  3m.,9f.;  35  min.  Theater- 
stage  scene. 

AMERICAN  HEARTS.     2m.,  8  f.;  25  min.     Drawing-room  scene. 

APARTHENT.  4  m.,  2  f.;  28  min.  Flat-apartment  scene.  Irish 
dialect  introduced. 

AT  THE  GRAND  CENTRAL.  2  f.;  25  min.  Railroad-station 
scene. 

BOTH  SIDES  OF  THE  COUNTER.  1  m  ,  2  f.,  and  several  men 
supes;  28  min.     Store  scene. 

CHARMING  CONVERSATIONALIST.  1  m,  2f.;  15  min.  Ball- 
room scene. 

COURIER.    2  m.,  3  f.;  30  min.    Hotel  private-parlor  scene. 

EN  VOYAGE.     2  m  ,  2  f.;  25  min.     Ship-deck  scene. 

FINISHED  COQUETTE.  5  m.,  5  f. ;  45  min.  Country-house  re- 
ception-room scene.  French,  Italian,  and  German  dialects 
introduced. 

HONEYMOON:  FOURTH  QUARTER.  2  m.,  2  f.;  26  min.  Apart- 
ment drawing-room  scene. 

KNIGHT  OF  THE  QUILL.  3  m.,  1  f.;  25  min.  Sitting-room 
scene.     Italian  dialect  introduced. 

ON  THE  STAIRCASE.     1  m.,  1  f.;  21  min.     Hall-staircase  scene. 

PAYING  THE  PIPER.  1  m.,  6f.;  26  min.  City  drawing-room 
scene. 

PROPOSAL.     1  in.,  2  f.;  25  min.     Drawing-room  scene. 

SCAPEGRACE.  1  m.,  6  f. ;  35  min.  Newport  drawing-room 
scene.     French  dialect  introduced. 

SNOW-BOUND.     2  m..  2  f.;  40  min.     Country  hotel  parlor  scene. 

TEACUPS.  3  m.,  2  f.,  and  supes;  25  min.  Drawing-room  scene. 
Theosoi  hie  farce. 

TITLE  ANL  MONEY.    2  m.,  2  f.;    26  min.      Ball-room   corner 

WAR  TO  THL  KNIFE.  2m,2f.;  26  min.  Country-house  re- 
ception-room scene. 

WEDDING-TOUR.  5  m.,  4  f.;  28  min.  Parlor-car  and  station 
waiting-room  scenes. 

WOHAN'S  FOREVER.  1  m.,  1  f.;  15  min.  Hotel  private- 
parlor  scene. 

Full  descriptive  contents  of  any  play 
sent  on  request 


Address  the  Publishers 

EDGAR  S.   WERNER  &   CO. 

43-45  East  19th  Street,  N.  Y. 


l    ^ 


.  WERNER'S 

READINGS  UNO  RECITATIONS 


No.  10 


AMERICA'S  RECITATION    BOOK 


COMPILED    AND   ARRANGED    BY 


CAROLINE   B.    Le    ROW 


^s^f 


X3 


Lft> 


EDGAR  S.  WERNER  &  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 

Copyright,    1892,  by  Edgar  S.  Werner 


NOTE. 

"AMERICA'S  RECITATION  BOOK,"  KNOWN 
ALSO  AS  "WERNER'S  READINGS  AND  RECI- 
TATIONS NO.  10,"  PRESENTS  THE  BEST  PRO- 
DUCTIONS IN  PROSE  AND  VERSE  ON  GREAT 
EVENTS  IN  THE  HISTORY  OF  OUR  COUNTRY 
DOWN  TO  THE  SPANISH-AMERICAN  WAR. 
THESE  SELECTIONS  ARE  ARRANGED  IN 
CHRONOLOGICAL  ORDER,  AND  ARE  ACCOM- 
PANIED WITH  EXPLANATIONS  THAT  IN- 
CREASE THEIR  INTEREST  AND  VALUE. 

AMERICAN  AUTHORS  ONLY  ARE  REPRE- 
SENTED; AND,  AS  NEARLY  ALL  OF  THEM 
ARE  OF  WORLD-WIDE  REPUTATION,  THE 
SELECTIONS  FORM  NOT  ONLY  MATERIAL 
FOR  THE  STUDY  OF  ORATORY,  BUT  OF  THE 
BEST  ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 

THIS  BOOK  WILL  STIMULATE  THE  STUDY 
OF  AMERICAN  BIOGRAPHY  AND  HISTORY. 
AS  AN  AID  TO  THIS  END,  CERTAIN  ERAS  IN 
THE  SOCIAL,  POLITICAL,  OR  MILITARY  EX- 
PERIENCES OF  THE  COUNTRY  CAN  BE 
SELECTED  FOR  THE  PURPOSE,  PROGRAMS 
ARRANGED,  AND  AS  MUCH  ADDITIONAL 
MATERIAL  SUPPLIED  UPON  THE  SAME 
TOPICS  AS  TIME  ALLOWS,  AND  THE  RE- 
SOURCES OF  TEACHER  AND  PUPILS  PERMIT. 


Werner's   Headings    No.    10 — page  3!. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

America. — William  Cullen  Bryant 237 

America  to  Great  Britain. — Washington  Allston 133 

American  Flag,  The. — Henry  Ward  Beecher 245[  \ * 

Battle  Above  the  Clouds,  The.— Theron  Brown 206 

Battle  of  Lookout  Mountain,  The. — George  H.  Boker 200 

Battle  of  the  Cowpens,  The. — Thomas  Dunn  English 124 

Battle  of  Tippecanoe,  The 149 

Battle  Poem,  A.— Benjamin  F.  Taylor 230 

Bay  Fight,  The.— Henry  H.  Brownell 215 

Bell  of  Liberty,  The— J.  T.  Headley 103 

Bethel.— A.  J.  H.  Duganne 172 

Birthday  of  the  Republic,  The. — Thomas  Paine 109 

3oy  Britton.     (August,  1814.) — Forceythe  Willson 144 

3ullRun.     (Sunday,  July  21.)— Alice  B.  Haven 170 

Bunker  Hill.— George  H.  Calvert 95 

Junker's  Hill— John  Neal 97 

Captain  Molly  at  Monmouth. — William  Collins 120 

Capture  of  Quebec,  The. — William  Warburton 74 

Capture  of  Ticonderoga,  The. — Ethan  Allen 72 

Cassy. — Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 208 

Cavalry  Scout,  The. — Edmundus  Scotus 174 

Centennial  of  1876,  The.— William  Maxwell  Evarts 254 

Change  of  Base,  A. — Albion  W.  Tourgee 183 

Charter  Oak,  The. — George  D.  Prentice 83 

Christopher  C 26 

lolonization  of  America,  The. — William  H.  Prescott 47 

Columbia  and  Liberty. — Robert  Treat  Paine 247 

'olumbia's  Emblem. — Edna  Dean  Proctor 258 

lolumbus. — Aubrey  De  Vere 25 

tolumbus. — James  Russell  Lowell 6 

!olumbus. — Joaquin  Miller 4 

z 

A 


CONTENTS. 

PA 

"Columbus. — Lydia  H.  Sigourney 

Columbus. — Thomas  C.  Adams.. 

Columbus  to  Ferdinand. — Jonathan  Mason 

Cruise  of  the  Monitor,  The. — George  M.  Baker 1 

Dangers  to  Our  Eepublic. — Horace  Mann 25 

Death  of  Harrison.— N.  P.  Willis 15 

Death  of  King  Philip. — Washington  Irving (j 

Declaration  of  Independence,  July  4,  1776 

Declaration  of  Independence,  The. — Carl  Schurz 1C 

Discovery  of  America,  The. — Washington  Irving 1 

Discovery  of  the  Hudson  River,  The. — Washington  Irving 2 

Discovery  of  the  Mississippi,  The. — George  Bancroft 2 

Eloquence  of  Revolutionary  Periods,  The. — Rufus  Choate 8 

Fathers  of  New  England,  The. — Charles  Sprague 5 

Fields  of  War,  The.— Isaac  McLellan,  Jr IS 

Fifer  and  Drummer  of  Scituate,  The.— S.  H.  Palfrey 11 

Fight  of  Lookout,  The.— Richard  L.  Cary,  Jr 2C 

For  Freedom. — Edna  Dean  Proctor IS 

Fourth  of  July. — George  W.  Bethune 

Freeman's  Defence,  The. — Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 

From  the  Old  World  to  the  New.— Lizzie  M.  Hadley S 

Gray  Forest  Eagle,  The.— Alfred  B.  Street 2£ 

High  Tide  at  Gettysburg.— Will  H.  Thompson IS 

History  of  Our  Flag. — Rev.  Albert  B.  Putnam 24 

In  Memory  of  the  Pilgrims. — Grenville  Mellen 6 

Indian  Hunter,  The. — Henry  W.  Longfellow 1 

Indian  Names. — Lydia  H.  Sigourney 6 

Indian  Warrior's  Last  Song,  The.— J.  Howard  Wert 

Indians,  The. — Joseph  Story •  £ 

Joshua  of  1776,  The.— W.  R.  Rose .' £ 

Keynote  of  Abolition,  The. — William  Lloyd  Garrison U 

King  Cotton. — Robert  Mackenzie 11 

Lexington. — Prosper  M.  Wetmore S 

Little  Giffen. — Dr.  Francis  Orrery  Ticknor    2S 

Lost  War-Sloop,  The.     (The  Wasp,  1814.)— Edna  Dean  Proctor  ......  U 

Marion's  Dinner. — Edward  C.  Jones 1£ 

Marquis  de  La  Fayette. — Charles  Sumner 11 

Mayflower,  The. — Erastus  W.  Ellsworth I 

Meaning  of  the  Four  Centuries,  The 2( 

Mrs.  Christopher  Columbus. — Marie  Sessions  Cowell £ 

My  Country. — George  E.  Woodberry 2^j 

Nation  Born  in  a  Day,  A.— John  Quincy  Adams 1( ' 


CONTENTS. 

PAWI, 

National  Hymn.— F.  Marion  Crawford 252 

New  England. — James  Gates  Perci val 54 

Nineteenth  of  April,  1861,  The.—  Lucy  Larcom 235 

North  American  Indians. — Charles  Sprague 64 

On  Board  the  Cumberland,  March  7,  1862.— George  H.  Boker 189 

On  the  Declaration  of  Independence. — Richard  S.  Storrs,  D.D 107 

Piccioli 187 

Pilgrim  Fathers,  The. — Isaac  McLellan,  Jr 52 

Pilgrim's  Vision,  The. — Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 58 

Predictions  Concerning  the  Fourth  of  July. — John  Adams 136 

Present  Crisis,  The. — James  Russell  Lowell 161 

Quarrel  of  Squire  Bull  and  his  Son  Jonathan. — James  Kirk  Paulding.  80 

Queen  Isabella's  Resolve. — Epes  Sargent 10 

Reason  Why,  The.— J.  P.  Prickett 196 

Reawakening.     (1861-1889.)  —Carl  Spencer 159 

Return  of  Columbus,  The. — William  H.  Prescott 18 

Return  of  Columbus,  The. — Epes  Sargent 17 

Rising  of  the  People,  The. — Elbridge  Jefferson  Cutler 163 

Soliloquy  of  Arnold. — Edward  C.  Jones 122 

South  in  the  Revolution,  The. — Robert  Young  Hayne 138 

Speech  of  Red  Jacket 147 

Spool  of  Thread,  A. — Sophie  E.  Eastman  211 

Stamp  Act,  The. — William  Grimshaw 84 

Stonewall  Jackson's  Death. — Paul  M.  Russell 213 

Story  of  the  Swords,  The. — Adelaide  C.  Waldron 140 

To  a  Portrait  of  Red  Jacket. — Fitz-Greene  Halleck 151 

True  Story  of  Abraham  Lincoln 185 

Two  Banners  of  America,  The. — Herrick  Johnson 255 

I  Vicksburg. — Paul  Hamilton  Hayne 234 

Vision  of  Liberty,  The. — Henry  Ware,  Jr 167 

\  Washington  at  Valley  Forge. — Theodore  Parker 114 

\  Washington's  Farewell  to  His  Army 135 

\  What  Waked  the  World.— Albion  W.  Tourgee  154 

\  Women  of  the  Revolution.— Mary  E.  Blake 115 

I  Wood  of  Chancellorsville,  The.— Delia  R.  German 192 


HISTORICAL  INDEX. 

Teachers  will  find  this  index  helpful  in  teaching  United  States 
history.  The  selections  are  arranged  in  periods  and  cover  Aineri 
can  history  down  to  the  Spanish-American  war.  Teachers  may  ust 
on  Friday  afternoons  those  selections  suited  to  the  history  being 
studied  in  the  school.  The  teacher  is  recommended  to  review  the 
lessons  of  the  week  and  introduce  in  the  review  the  proper  selec 
tion  to  be  recited  by  a  pupil. 


PAG  l 

PERIOD  I.— DISCOVERIES.— 1492-1609 1 

Christopher  C 2( 

Columbus. — Thomas  C.  Adams 

Columbus. — Lydia  H.  Sigourney 

Columbus. — Joaquin  Miller 4 

Columbus. — James  Russell  Lowell ( 

Columbus. — Aubrey  De  Vere 25 

Columbus  to  Ferdinand. — Jonathan  Mason t 

Discovery  of  America,  The. — Washington  Irving Ik 

Discovery  of  the  Hudson  River,  The. — Washington  Irving 21 

Discovery  of  the  Mississippi,  The. — George  Bancroft 2t 

From  the  Old  World  to  the  New.— Lizzie  M.  Hadley 32 

Mrs.  Christopher  Columbus. — Marie  Sessions  Cowell 2£ 

Queen  Isabella's  Resolve. — Epes  Sargent It 

Return  of  Columbus,  The. — Epes  Sargent 17 

Return  of  Columbus,  The. — William  H.  Prescott 1£ 

PERIOD  II.— SETTLEMENTS.— 1609-1681 47 

Colonization  of  America,  The — William  H.  Prescott 47 

Fathers  of  New  England,  The. — Charles  Sprague 56 

In  Memory  of  the  Pilgrims. — Gren  ville  Mellen 61 

Mayflower,  Tbe.— Erastus  W.  Ellsworth 50 

New  England. — James  Gates  Percival 54 

Pilgrim  Fathers,  The. — Isaac  McLellan,  Jr 52 

Pilgrim's  Vision,  The. — Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 58 

PERIOD  III.— FRENCH   AND  INDIAN  WARS.— 1690-1763 64 

Capture  of  Quebec,  The.  —William  Warburton 74 

Capture  of  Ticonderoga,  The.— Ethan  Allen 72 

Death  of  King  Philip. — Washington  Irving 69 

Indian  Hunter,  The.— Henry  W.  Longfellow 71 

Indian  Names.— Lydia  H.  Sigourney 6fi 


INDEX  TO  PERIODS. 

PAQK 

PERIOD  III.    {Continued.) 

Indian  Warrior's  Last  Song,  The. — J.  Howard  Wert 78 

Indians,  The. — Joseph  Story 66 

North  American  Indians. — Charles  Sprague 64 

PEEIOD    IV.— REVOLUTIONARY    WAR.— DECLARATION    OF 

INDEPENDENCE.— 1764-1782 80 

America  to  Great  Britain.— Washington  Allston 133 

Battle  of  the  Cowpens,  The. — Thomas  Dunn  English. . .    124 

Bell  of  Liberty,  The.— J.  T.  Headley 103 

Birthday  of  the  Republic,  The. — Thomas  Paine 109 

Bunker  Hill.— George  H.  Calvert 95 

Bunker's  Hill.— John  Neal 97 

Captain  Molly  at  Monmouth. — William  Collins 120 

Charter  Oak,  The. — George  D.  Prentice 83 

Declaration  of  Independence,  July  4,  1776 99 

Declaration  of  Independence,  The. — Carl  Schurz 105 

Eloquence  of  Revolutionary  Periods,  The. — Rufus  Choate 86 

Fields  of  War,  The.— Isaac  McLellan,  Jr 131 

Fifer  and  Drummer  of  Scituate,  The. — S.  H.  Palfrey 118 

Joshua  of  1776,  The.— W.  R.  Rose 88 

Lexington. — Prosper  M.  Wetmore 00 

Marion's  Dinner. — Edward  C.  Jones 130 

Marquis  de  La  Fayette. — Charles  Sumner Ill 

Nation  Born  in  a  Day,  A. — John  Quincy  Adams 108 

On  the  Declaration  of  Independence. — Richard  S.  Storrs,  D.D 107 

Predictions  Concerning  the  Fourth  of  July. — John  Adams 136 

Soliloquy  of  Arnold. — Edwai'd  C.  Jones 122 

South  in  the  Revolution,  The. — Robert  Young  Hayne 138 

Quarrel  of  Squire  Bull    and  his   Son  Jonathan. — James  Kirke 

Paulding 80 

Stamp  Act,  The. — William  Grimshaw 84 

Washington  at  Valley  Forge. — Theodore  Parker 114 

Washington's  Farewell  to  His  Army 135 

Women  of  the  Revolution. — Mary  E.  Blake 115 

PERIOD  V.— WAR  OF  1812.— MEXICAN  WAR.— 1812-1849 140 

Battle  of  Tippecanoe,  The 149 

Boy  Britton.     (August,  1814.) — Forceythe  Willson 144 

Death  of  Harrison.— N.  P.  Willis 157 

Lost  War-Sloop,  The.    (The  Wasp,  1814.)— Edna  Dean  Proctor. .  142 

111        Speech  of  Red  Jacket , ; .  147 


INDEX  TO  PERIODS. 

PAGE 

PERIOD  V.    (Continued.) 

Story  of  the  Swords,  The.— Adelaide  C.  Waldron 140 

To  a  Portrait  of  Red  Jacket. — Fitz-Greene  Halleck 151 

What  Waked  the  World.— Albion  W.  Tourgee 154 

PERIOD  VI.— CIVIL  WAR.— EMANCIPATION  PROCLAMATION. 

— 1861-18C4 159 

Battle  Above  the  Clouds,  The.— Theron  Brown 206 

Battle  of  Lookout  Mountain,  The. — George  H.  Boker 200 

Battle  Poem,  A.— Benjamin  F.  Taylor 230 

Bay  Fight,  The.— Henry  H.  Brownell 215 

Bethel.— A.  J.  H.  Duganne 172 

Bull  Run.     (Sunday,  July  21.)— Alice  B.  Haven 170 

Cassy. — Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 208 

Cavalry  Scout,  The. — Edmundus  Scotus 174 

Change  of  Base,  A. — Albion  W.  Tourgee 183 

Cruise  of  the  Monitor,  The.— George  M.  Baker 176 

Fight  of  Lookout,  The.— Richard  L.  Gary,  Jr 204 

For  Freedom. — Edna  Dean  Proctor 199 

Freeman's  Defence,  The. — Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 225 

High  Tide  at  Gettysburg.—  Will  H.  Thompson 194 

Keynote  of  Abolition,  The. — William  Lloyd  Garrison 181 

King  Cotton. — Robert  Mackenzie 179 

Little  Giffen.— Dr.  Francis  Orrery  Ticknor 224 

Nineteenth  of  April,  1861,  The.— Lucy  Larcom 235 

On  Board  the  Cumberland,  March  7,  1862.— George  H.  Boker 189 

Piccioli 187 

Present  Crisis,  The.— James  Russell  Lowell 161 

Reason  Why,  The.— J.  P.  Prickett 196 

Reawakening.     (1861-1889.)— Carl  Spencer 159 

Rising  of  the  People,  The.— Elbridge  Jefferson  Cutler 163 

Spool  of  Thread,  A.— Sophie  E.  Eastman 211 

Stonewall  Jackson's  Death.  —Paul  M.  Russell 213 

True  Stoiy  of  Abraham  Lincoln,  A , 185 

Vicksburg. — Paul  Hamilton  Hayne 234 

Vision  of  Liberty,  The.— Henry  Ware,  Jr 161 

Wood  of  Chancellorsville,  The.— Delia  R.  German 19S 

PERIOD  VII.— DAWNING  OF  THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY..  23'! 

America. — William  Cullen  Bryant 231 

American  Flag,  The.— Henry  Ward  Beecher 24f 

Centennial  of  1876,  The.— William  Maxwell  Evarts 25^ 


INDEX  TO  PERIODS. 

PERIOD  VII.— {Continued.) 

Columbus  and  Liberty. — Robert  Treat  Paine   247 

Columbia's   Emblem. — Edna  Dean  Proctor    258 

Dangers  to  Our  Republic. — Horace  Mann  256 

Fourth  of  July. — George  W.  Bethune 238 

Gray  Forest  Eagle.— Alfred  B.  Street 239 

History  of  Our  Flag.— Rev.  Albert  B.  Putnam 242 

Meaning  of  the  Four  Centuries   260 

My  Country  —  George  E.  Woodberry  249 

National  Hymn. — F.  Marion   Crawford 252 

Two  Banners  of  America. — Herrick  Johnson    255 


Werner's    Readings   No.    10 — page   ix. 


INDEX  TO  AUTHORS, 


PAGE 

Adams,  John  136 

Adams,   John    Quincy 108 

Adams,  Thomas  C 2 

Allen,   Ethan    72 

Allston,   Washington    133 

Baker,   George   M 176 

Bancroft,  George  28 

Beecher,   Henry   Ward 245 

Bethune,   George   W 238 

Blake,  Mary  E 115 

Boker,  George  H 189,  200 

Brown,   Theron    206 

Brownell,  Henry  H 215 

Bryant,  William   Cullen 237 

Calvert,  George   H 95 

Cary,  Jr.,  Richard  L 204 

Choate,  Rufus   86 

Collins,  William   120 

Cowel,   Marie   Sessions 23 

Crawford,  F.  Marion 252 

Cutler,    Elbridge   Jefferson...   163 

De  Vere,  Aubrey  25 

Duganne,  A.  J.  H 172 

Eastman,  Sophie  E 211 

Ellsworth,    Erastus  W 50 

English,  Thomas  Dunn   124 

Evarts,  William   Maxwell 254 

Garrison,  William  Lloyd 181 

German,    Delia    R 192 

Grimshaw,   William    84 

Hadley,   Lizzie   M 32 

Halleck,   Fitz-Greene    151 

Haven,  Alice   B 170 

Hayne,  Paul  Hamilton 234 

Hayne,    Robert   Young 138 

Headley,  J.  T 103 

Holmes,   Oliver  Wendell 58 

Irving,    Washington  — 12,21,     69 

Johnson,  Herrick   255 

Jones,   Edward  C 122,  130 

Larcom,    Lucy    235 

Longfellow,  Henry  W 71 

Lowell,   James    Russell 6,  161 


McLellan,    Jr.,    Isaac 52, 

Mackenzie,   Robert   

Mann,    Horace    

Mason,  Jonathan   

Mellen,   Grenville    

Miller,  Joaquin    

Neal,  John   

Paine,    Robert  Treat 

Paine,  Thomas   

Palfrey,   S.   H 

Parker,  Theodore    

Paulding,  James  Kirke   

Percival,    James    Gates 

Prentice,   George    D 

Prescott,    William   H 18, 

Prickett,  J.    P 

Proctor,  Edna  Dean..  142,  199, 

Putnam,  Rev.  Albert  B 

Rose,  W.  R 

Russell,    Paul    M 

Sargent,   Epes    10, 

Schurz,    Carl    

Scotus,   Edmundus    

Sigourney,   Lydia   H 3, 

Spencer,    Carl    

Sprague,    Charles    56, 

Storrs,    Richard,    D.D 

Story,  Joseph   

Stowe,    Harriet    Beecher.  .208, 

Street,  Alfred  B 

Sumner,    Charles    

Taylor,   Benjamin   F 

Thomas    Will    H 

Ticknor,  Dr.  Francis  Orrery. 

Tourgee,   Albion   W 154, 

Waldron,   Adelaide    C 

Warburton,    William    

Ware,   Jr.,    Henry 

Wert,   J.    Howard 

Wetmore,   Prosper  M 

Willis,  N.  P 

■Willson,    Forceythe    

Woodberry,   George   E....... 


PAJ 

1 
If 


Werner's    Readings    No.    10 — page   X. 


WERNER'S 

Readings  and  Recitations. 


No.  10. 


AMERICA'S   RECITATION    BOOK. 

Period  L— DISCOVERIES. 
1492 — 1609. 


Christopher  Columbus,  bom  in  Genoa,  1436,  after  eighteen  years  of 
effort  to  secure  help  in  his  enterprise,  was  provided  by  Queen  Isabella  of 
Spain  with  three  small  vessels  and  one  hundred  men  at  a  cost  of  about 
$20,000.  He  sailed  from  Palos,  Spain,  August  3d,  and  landed  at  the 
Bahama  Islands,  October  12th,  1492.     He  died  at  Valladolid,  1506. 

Columbus  discovered  Cuba  and  Hayti,  which  he  named  Hispaniola, 
Little  Spain.  He  believed  that  these  islands  were  connected  with  India, 
and  as  they  had  been  reached  by  a  western  passage  they  were  called  the 
West  Indies.  In  accordance  with  this  theory  the  aborigines  of  America, 
from  the  time  of  the  first  discovery,  have  been  called  Indians. 

In  1524  Francis  I.  of  France,  "willing  to  share  a  part  of  the  New 

World  with  his  neighbors,"   commissioned  Verrazano  on  a  voyage  of 

discovery.     This  navigator  explored  a  great  part  of  the  coast  of  North 

i  America.     Ten  years  later  James  Cartier  set  out  on  a  similar  expedition, 

Jsailed  up  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  took  possession  of  the  country  in  the 

•i  name  of  the  king,  and  called  it  New  France.     The  name  was  afterward 

,j  changed  to  Canada. 

I      In  1584  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh,  under  a  commission  from  Queen  Elizabeth 

fajto  discover,  occupy,  and  govern  "remote    heathen  and  barbarous  coun- 

I tries,  not  previously  possessed  by  any  Christian  prince  or  people,"  arrived 

"  in  America,  entered  Pamlico  Sound  and  proceeded  to  Roanoke  Island, 

where  he  took  possession  of  the  country.     On  his  return  to  England  he 

1  gave  such  a  splendid  description  of  the  beauty  and  fertility  of  the  region 

that  Elizabeth,  delighted  with  the  idea  of  occupying  so  fine  a  territory, 

gave  it  the  name  of  Virginia,  as  a  memorial  that  this  happy  discovery 

was  made  during  the  reign  of  a  virgin  queen. 

1 


WERNER'S   READINGS 

COLUMBUS. 


THOMAS  C.  ADAMS. 


THRICE  round  the  earth  in  graceful  measures  gliding, 
Dian,  all  blushes,  dropped  behind  the  sea; 
Amidst  its  vast  expanse  Columbus  guiding, 

Where  life-long  hope  assured  new  worlds  must  be. 
Wayworn  and  sad,  but  sea  and  sky  appearing, 

His  comrades  urged  their  chief  his  quest  forsake; 

And,  though  no  doubt  his  steadfast  faith  could  shake, 
He  feigned  to  yield,  their  troubled  spirits  cheering; 
When  spicy  odors  with  the  breezes  blended, 

And  birds  of  brilliant  plumage  fluttered  by, 

Whispered  at  last  the  promised  land  Avas  nigh ; 
And  as  another  night  his  vigils  ended, 
The  morning  sunbeams  hill  and  dale  display 
Of  what  his  fancy  pictured  as  Cathay. 

If  not  the  Eden  deemed,  nor  fair  Cathay, 

The  new-born  world,  like  that  famed  realm  of  old, 
Eich  in  its  spices,  precious  pearls  and  gold, 

Before  his  raptured  gaze  in  beauty  lay. 

Whether  the  fabled  islands  of  the  blest, 

Or  where  Phenicia  plied  her  secret  trade — 

Where  holy  Brandan  found  the  streams  flow  west, 
Or  in  his  armor  the  dead  viking  laid — 

Not  his  to  know.     Enough  for  him  the  thought 
This  vast  domain,  long  sought,  from  all  concealed 
Since  the  primeval  dawn,  stood  now  revealed, 

His  monarch's  and  his  own,  by  perils  bought. 

Forgot  in  moment  of  such  pure  delight, 

With  what  ingratitude  can  kings  requite. 

Yet  when  within  its  earliest  prison  tower 

His  limbs  were  fettered,  but  his  soul  soared  free, 


AND   RECITATIONS. 

Came  visions  of  a  happier  destiny. 
Triumphant  over  greed  and  pride  and  power, 
The  Old  World  to  the  New  in  turbid  stream 

Poured  forth  its  festering  pools,  its  rot  and  rust. 
Bigots  and  tyrants,  in  his  vivid  dream, 

Sceptres  and  scaffolds  moulder  into  dust. 
And  as  the  generations  came  and  went, 

Knowledge  and  love  and  faith  the  mastery  gaining, 
The  chains  unloosed,  false  altars,  prisons  rent, 

Wisdom  and  innocence  alone  remaining, 
Behold  an  Eden  of  a  nobler  plan 
To  reassert  the  majesty  of  man. 


COLUMBUS. 


LYDIA    II.    SIGOUKNEY. 


ST.  STEPHEN'S  cloistered  hall  was  proud 
In  learning's  pomp  that  day, 
For  there  a  robed  and  stately  crowd 

Pressed  on  in  long  array. 
A  mariner  with  simple  chart 

Confronts  that  conclave  high, 
While  strong  ambition  stirs  his  heart, 
And  burning  thoughts  of  wonder  part, 
From  lip  and  sparkling  eye. 

What  hath  he  said?     With  frowning  face 

In  whispered  tones  they  speak, 
And  lines  upon  their  tablets  trace 

Which  flush  each  ashen  cheek; 
The  Inquisition's  mystic  doom 

Sits  on  their  brows  severe, 
And  bursting  forth  in  visioned  gloom 
Sad  heresy  from  burning  tomb 

Groans  on  the  startled  ear. 


WERNERS   READINGS 

Courage,  thou  Genoese!     Old  Time 

Thy  splendid  dream  shall  crown; 
Yon  Western  Hemisphere  sublime 

Where  unshorn  forests  frown, 
The  awful  Andes'  cloud-wrapped  brow, 

The  Indian  hunter's  bow, 
Bold  streams  untamed  by  helm  or  prow, 
And  rocks  of  gold  and  diamonds,  thou 

To  thankless  Spain  shalt  show. 

Courage,  world-fir) der!  Thou  hast  need ! 

In  fate's  unfolding  scroll 
Dark  woes  and  ingrate  wrongs  I  read, 

That  rack  the  noble  soul. 
On !  on !  Creation's  secrets  probe, 

Then  drink  thy  cup  of  scorn; 
And,  wrapped  in  fallen  Caesar's  robe, 
Sleep  like  that  master  of  the  globe, 

All  glorious — yet  forlorn ! 


COLUMBUS. 


JOAQUIN    MILLER. 
[Written  expressly  for  and  recited  by  Mrs.  Frank.  Lksuk.1 


BEHIND  him  lay  the  gray  Azores, 
Behind  the  Gates  of  Hercules; 
Before  him  not  the  ghost  of  shores, 

Before  him  only  shoreless  seas. 
The  good  mate  said :  "  Now  must  we  pray, 

For  lo !  the  very  stars  are  gone. 
Speak,  Admiral,  what  shall  I  say?  " 
"Why  say,  'Sail  on!  sail  on!  and  on!  ' 


AND   RECITATIONS. 

" My  men  grow  mutinous  day  by  day; 

My  men  grow  ghastly  wan  and  weak." 
The  stout  mate  thought  of  home;  a  spray 

Of  salt  wave  washed  his  swarthy  cheek. 
"  What  shall  I  say,  brave  Admiral,  say, 

If  we  sight  naught  but  seas  at  dawn?  " 
"  Why,  you  shall  say  at  break  of  day, 

'  Sail  on !  sail  on !  sail  on !  and  on ! '  " 

They  sailed  and  sailed,  as  winds  might  blow, 

Until  at  last  the  blanched  mate  said : 
"  Why,  now  not  even  God  would  know 

Should  I  and  all  my  men  fall  dead. 
These  very  winds  forget  their  way, 

For  God  from  these  dread  seas  is  gone. 
Now  speak,  brave  Admiral,  speak  and  say — " 

He  said:  "  Sail  on!  sail  on!  and  on!  " 

They  sailed.     They  sailed.     Then  spoke  the  mate: 

"  This  mad  sea  shows  its  teeth  to-night. 
He  curls  his  lip,  he  lies  in  wait, 

AVith  lifted  teeth,  as  if  to  bite ! 
Brave  Admiral,  say  but  one  good  word: 

What  shall  we  do  when  hope  is  gone?  " 
The  words  leapt  as  a  leaping  sword: 

"  Sail  on!  sail  on!  sail  on!  and  on!  " 

Then,  pale  and  worn,  he  kept  his  deck, 

And  peered  through  darkness.     Ah,  that  night 
Of  all  dark  nights !     And  then  a  speck — 

Alight!     Alight!     Alight!     Alight! 
It  grew,  a  starlit  flag  unfurled ! 

It  grew  to  be  Time's  burst  of  dawn. 
He  gained  a  world ;  he  gave  that  world 

Its  grandest  lesson ;  "  On  and  on!  " 


WERNER'S   READINGS 

COLUMBUS. 


JAMES    RUSSELL    LOWELL. 

HERE  am  I,  for  what  end  God  knows,  not  I; 
Westward  still  points  the  inexorable  soul. 
Here  am  I,  with  no  friend  but  the  sad  sea, 
The  beating  heart  of  this  great  enterprise, 
Which,  without  me,  would  stiffen  in  swift  death. 
This  have  I  mused  on,  since  mine  eye  could  first 
Among  the  stars  distinguish,  and,  with  joy, 
Pest  on  the  God-fed  Pharos  of  the  North ; 
To  this  one  hope  my  heart  hath  clung  for  years, 
As  would  a  foundling  to  the  talisman 
Hung  round  his  neck  by  hands  he  knew  not  whose. 
Tli is  hope  hath  been  to  me  for  love  and  fame, 
Hath  made  me  wholly  lonely  on  the  earth; 
Building  me  up  as  in  a  thick-ribbed  tower, 
Wherewith  enwalled  my  watching  spirit  burned, 
Conquering  its  little  island  from  the  dark, 
Sole  as  a  scholar's  lamp;  and  heard  men's  steps, 
In  the  far  hurry  of  the  outward  world, 
Pass  dimly  forth  and  back,  sounds  heard  in  dream. 
As  Ganymede  by  the  eagle  was  snatched  up 
From  the  gross  sod  to  be  Jove's  cup-bearer, 
So  was  I  lifted  up  by  my  great  design. 
Yet  to  have  greatly  dreamed  precludes  low  ends; 
Great  days  have  ever  such  a  morning-red, 
On  such  a  base  great  futures  are  built  up, 
And  aspiration,  though  not  put  in  act, 
Comes  back  to  ask  its  plighted  troth  again. 
I  know  not  when  this  hope  enthralled  me  first, 
But  from  my  boyhood  up  I  loved  to  hear 
The  tall  pine  forests  of  the  Apennine 
Murmur  their  hoary  legends  of  the  sea; 


AND   RECITATIONS. 

Which  hearing,  I,  in  vision  clear,  beheld 

The  sudden  dark  of  tropin  night  shut  down 

O'er  the  huge  whisper  of  great  watery  wastes. 

Then  did  I  entertain  the  poet's  song, 

My  great  Idea's  guest,  and,  passing  o'er 

That  iron  bridge  the  Tuscan  built  to  hell, 

I  heard  Ulysses  tell  the  mountain  chains, 

Whose  adamantine  links,  his  manacles, 

The  western  main  shook  growling  and  still  gnawed. 

I  brooded  on  the  wise  Athenian's  tale 

Of  happy  Atlantis,  and  heard  Bjorne's  keel 

Crunch  the  gray  pebbles  of  the  Vinland  shore. 

For  I  believed  the  poets;  it  is  they 

Who  utter  wisdom  from  the  central  deep, 

And,  listening  to  the  inner  flow  of  things, 

Speak  to  the  age  out  of  eternity. 

Endurance  is  the  cunning  quality, 
And  patience  all  the  passion  of  great  hearts; 
These  are  their  stay,  and  when  the  leaden  world 
Sets  its  hard  face  against  their  fateful  thought, 
And  brute  strength,  like  a  scornful  conqueror, 
Clangs  his  huge  mace  down  in  the  other  scale, 
The  inspired  soul  but  flings  his  patience  in, 
And  slowly  that  outweighs  the  ponderous  globe — 
One  faith  against  a  whole  earth's  unbelief, 
One  soul  against  the  flesh  of  all  mankind. 

Thus  ever  seems  it  when  my  soul  can  hear 

The  voice  that  errs  not;  then  my  triumph  gleams 

O'er  the  blank  ocean  beckoning,  and  all  night 

My  heart  flies  on  before  me  as  I  sail. 

Far  on  I  see  my  life-long  enterprise, 

Which  rose  like  Ganges  'mid  the  freezing  snows 

Of  a  world's  sordidness,  sweep  broadening  down 

And,  gathering  to  itself  a  thousand  streams, 


WERNER  S    READINGS 

Grow  sacred  ere  it  mingled  with  the  sea. 

I  see  the  ungated  wall  of  chaos  old, 

With  blocks  Cyclopean  hewn  of  solid  night, 

Fade  like  a  wreath  of  imreturning  mist 

Before  the  irreversible  feet  of  light; 

And  lo!  with  what  clear  omen  in  the  east 

On  day's  gray  threshold  stands  the  eager  dawn, 

Like  young  Leander,  rosy  from  the  sea, 

Glowing  at  Hero's  lattice! 

One  day  more 
These  muttering  shoal-brains  leave  the  helm  to  me. 
God,  let  me  not  in  their  dull  ooze  be  stranded! 
Let  not  this  one  frail  bark,  to  hollow  which 
I  have  dug  out  the  pith  and  sinewy  heart 
Of  my  aspiring  life's  fair  trunk,  be  so 
Cast  up  to  warp  and  blacken  in  the  sun, 
Just  as  the  opposing  wind  'gins  whistle  off 
His  cheek-swollen  mates,  and  from  the  leaning  mast 
Fortune's  full  sail  strains  forward! 

One  poor  day ! 
Eemember  whose,  and  not  how  short  it  is! 
It  is  God's  day,  it  is  Columbus's! 
A  lavish  day!     One  day  with  life  and  heart, 
Is  more  than  time  enough  to  find  a  world. 


COLUMBUS  TO  FERDINAND. 


JONATHAN    MASON. 


T  LLTTSTRIOUS  monarch  of  Iberia's  soil, 
1   Too  long  I  wait  permission  to  depart; 
Sick  of  delays,  I  beg  thy  list'ning  ear — 
Shine  forth  the  patron  and  the  prince  of  art. 
While  yet  Columbus  breathes  the  vital  air, 
Grant  his  request  to  pass  the  western  main ; 


AND   RECITATIONS. 

Eeserve  this  glory  for  thy  native  soil, 

And  what  must  please  thee  more — for  thy  own  reign. 

Of  this  huge  globe  how  small  a  part  we  know — 

Does  heaven  their  worlds  to  western  suns  deny? 

How  disproportioned  to  the  mighty  deep 

The  lands  that  yet  in  human  prospect  lie. 

Does  Cynthia,  when  to  western  skies  arrived, 

Spend  her  sweet  beam  upon  the  barren  main; 

And  ne'er  illume  with  midnight  splendor,  she, 

The  native  dancing  on  the  lightsome  green? 

Should  the  vast  circuit  of  the  world  contain 

Such  wastes  of  ocean,  and  such  scanty  land? 

'Tis  reason's  voice  that  bids  me  think  not  so; 

I  think  more  nobly  of  the  Almighty  hand. 

Does  yon  fair  lamp  trace  half  the  circle  round 

To  light  the  waves  and  monsters  of  the  seas? 

No !  Be  there  must,  beyond  the  billowy  waste, 

Islands,  and  men,  and  animals,  and  trees. 

An  unremitting  flame  my  breast  inspires, 

To  seek  new  lands  amidst  the  barren  waves, 

Where  falling  low,  the  source  of  day  descends, 

And  the  blue  sea  his  evening  visage  leaves. 

Hear,  in  his  tragic  lay,  Cordova's  sage: 

"  The  time  shall  come,  when  numerous  years  are  past, 

The  ocean  shall  dissolve  the  bands  of  things, 

And  an  extended  region  rise  at  last ; 

And  Typhis  shall  disclose  the  mighty  land, 

Far,  far  away,  where  none  have  roved  before ; 

Nor  shall  the  world's  remotest  regions  be 

Gibraltar's  rock,  on  Thule's  savage  shore." 

Fired  at  the  theme,  I  languish  to  depart; 

Supply  the  barque,  and  bid  Columbus  sail. 

He  fears  no  storms  upon  the  untravelled  deep; 

Eeason  shall  steer,  and  skill  disarm  the  gale. 

Nor  does  he  dread  to  lose  the  intended  course, 


10  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Though  far  from  land  the  reeling  galley  stray, 

And  skies  above,  and  gulfy  seas  below, 

Be  the  sole  object  seen  for  many  a  day. 

Think  not  that  nature  has  unveiled  in  vain 

The  mystic  magnet  to  the  mortal  eye ; 

So  late  have  we  the  guiding  needle  planned 

Only  to  sail  beneath  our  native  sky? 

Ere  this  was  found,  the  Killing  Power  of  all, 

Found  for  our  use  an  ocean  in  the  land, 

Its  breadth  so  small  we  could  not  wander  long, 

Nor  long  be  absent  from  the  neighboring  strand. 

Short  was  the  course,  and  guided  by  the  stars. 

But  stars  no  more  shall  point  our  daring  way; 

The  Bear  shall  sink,  and  every  guard  be  drowned, 

And  great  Arcturus  scarce  escape  the  sea, 

When  southward  we  shall  steer.     Oh,  grant  my  wish! 

Supply  the  barque,  and  bid  Columbus  sail ; 

He  dreads  no  tempest  on  the  untravelled  deep, 

Reason  shall  steer  and  skill  disarm  the  gale. 


QUEEN   ISABELLA'S  RESOLVE. 


EPES     SARGENT. 


I  Isabella,  Queen  of  Spain. 
Characters  <  Don  Gomez,  a  Grandee. 
(  Christopher  Columbus. 


ISABELLA.   And  so,  Don  Gomez,  you  think  we  ought  to  dismis 
the  proposition  of  this  worthy  Genoese? 
Don  Gomez.  His  scheme,  your  Majesty,  is  fanciful  in  the  ex 
treme.     I  am  a  plain  man.     I  do  not  see  visions  and  dream  dream 
like  some  men. 

Isa.  And  yet  Columbus  has  given  us  good  reasons  for  believin< 
that  he  can  reach  India  by  sailing  in  a  westerly  direction. 

Don  G.  Delusion,   your   Majesty!      Admitting  that  the  eartl 


AND   RECITATIONS.  11 

s  a  sphere,  how  would  it  be  possible  for  him  to  return,  if  he  once 
lescended  the  sphere  in  the  direction  he  proposes?  Would  not 
;he  coming  back  be  all  uphill?  Could  a  ship  accomplish  it  even 
vith  the  most  favorable  wind? 

Isa.  What  you  have  to  say  to  these  objections,  Columbus? 

Columbus.  With  your  Majesty's  leave,  I  would  suggest  that  if 
he  earth  is  a  sphere,  the  same  laws  of  adhesion  and  motion  must 
>perate  at  every  point  on  its  surface. 

Don  G.  Don't  try  to  make  me,  a  grandee  of  Spain,  believe  such 
tuff  as  that  there  are  people  on  the  earth  who  walk  with  their 
leads  down,  like  flies  on  a  ceiling!  Would  not  the  blood  run  into 
ny  head  if  I  were  standing  upside  down? 

Col.  I  have  already  answered  that  objection.  If  there  are  people 
>n  the  earth  who  are  our  antipodes,  it  should  be  remembered  that 
ve  are  also  theirs. 

Isa.  To  cut  short  the  discussion,  you  think  that  the  enterprise, 
vhich  Columbus  proposes,  is  one  unworthy  of  our  serious  consider- 
ition? 

Don  G.  As  a  matter-of-fact  man,  I  must  confess  that  I  do  so  re- 
gard it.  Has  your  Majesty  ever  seen  an  embassador  from  this  un- 
known coast? 

Isa.  Have  you  ever  seen  an  embassador  from  the  unknown  world 
)f  spirits? 

Don  Gr.  Certainly  not.     Through  faith  we  look  forward  to  it. 

Isa.  Even  so,  by  faith,  does  Columbus  look  forward,  far  over  the 
nisty  ocean,  to  an  undiscovered  shore.  Know,  Don  Gomez,  that 
;he  absurdity,  as  you  style  it,  shall  be  tested,  and  that  forthwith. 

Don  G.  Your  Majesty  will  excuse  me  if  I  remark  that  I  have 
!rom  your  royal  consort  himself  the  assurance  that  the  finances  of 
-he  government  are  so  exhausted  by  the  late  wars  that  he  cannot 
consent  to  advance  the  necessary  funds  for  fitting  out  an  expedition 
)f  the  kind  proposed. 

Isa.  Be  mine,  then,  the  privilege !  I  have  jewels,  by  the  pledg- 
ng  of  which  I  can  raise  the  amount  required ;  and  I  have  resolved 
vhat  they  shall  be  pledged  to  this  enterprise  without  more  delay. 


12  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Col.  Your  Majesty  shall  not  repent  your  heroic  resolve.  I  will 
return — be  sure  I  will  return — and  lay  at  your  feet  such  a  jewel  as 
never  queen  wore  yet,  an  imperishable  fame  that  shall  couple  with 
your  memory  the  benedictions  of  millions  yet  unborn  in  climes  yet 
unknown  to  civilized  man.  There  is  a  conviction  in  my  mind  that 
your  Majesty  will  live  to  bless  the  hour  you  came  to  this  decision. 


THE   DISCOVERY  OF  AMERICA. 


WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


I  SHALL  not  occupy  time  by  discussing  the  huge  mass  of  sup 
positions,  conjectures,  and  probabilities  respecting  the  first  dis 
covery  of  this  country,  with  which  unhappy  historians  overload 
themselves,  in  their  endeavors  to  satisfy  the  doubts  of  an  incredu- 
lous world.  It  is  painful  to  see  these  laborious  wights  panting 
and  toiling  and  sweating  under  an  enormous  burden,  at  the 
very  outset  of  their  work,  which,  on  being  opened,  turns  out  to  be 
nothing  but  a  mighty  bundle  of  straw.  As,  however,  by  unwearied 
assiduity  they  seem  to  have  established  the  fact,  to  the  satisfactior 
of  all  the  world,  that  this  country  has  been  discovered,  I  shal 
avail  myself  of  their  useful  labors  to  be  extremely  brief  upon  this 
point. 

I  shall  not,  therefore,  stop  to  inquire  whether  America  was 
first  discovered  by  a  wandering  vessel  of  that  celebrated  Phceniciai 
fleet  which,  according  to  Herodotus,  circumnavigated  Africa,  oi 
by  that  Carthaginian  expedition  which  Pliny,  the  naturalist,  in 
forms  us  discovered  the  Canary  Islands;  or  whether  it  was  settlec 
by  a  temporary  colony  from  Tyre,  as  hinted  by  Aristotle  ant 
Seneca. 

I  shall  neither  inquire  whether  it  was  first  discovered  by  th< 
Chinese,  as  Vossius,  with  great  shrewdness,  advances;  nor  by  th 
Norwegians  in  1002  under  Broin;    nor  by  Behem,  the  Germai 


AND   RECITATIONS.  13 

navigator;  nor  shall  I  investigate  the  more  modern  claims  of  the 
■Welsh,  founded  on  the  voyage  of  Prince  Madoc  in  the  eleventh 
century,  who,  having  never  returned,  it  has  been  wisely  concluded 
that  he  must  have  gone  to  America,  and  that  for  a  plain  reason — if 
he  did  not  go  there,  where  else  could  he  have  gone?  a  question 
which  most  Socratically  shuts  out  all  further  dispute. 

Laying  aside,  therefore,  all  the  conjectures  above  mentioned, 
with  a  multitude  of  others  equally  satisfactory,  I  shall  take  for 
granted  the  vulgar  opinion  that  America  was  discovered  on  the 
12th  of  October,  1492,  by  Christoval  Colon,  a  Genoese,  who  has 
been  clumsily  nicknamed  Columbus,  but  for  what  reason  I  cannot 
discern.  Of  the  voyages  and  adventures  of  this  Colon,  I  shall  say 
nothing,  seeing  that  they  are  already  sufficiently  known.  Nor 
shall  I  undertake  to  prove  that  this  country  should  have  been  called 
Colonia,  after  his  name,  that  being  notoriously  self-evident. 

Having  thus  happily  got  my  readers  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
I  picture  them  to  myself  all  impatience  to  enter  upon  the  enjoyment 
|of  the  land  of  promise,  and  in  full  expectation  that  I  will  im- 
$mediately  deliver  it  into  their  possession.  But  if  I  do,  may  I  ever 
^forfeit  the  reputation  of  a  regular-bred  historian !  No,  no ;  most 
jcurious  and  thrice  learned  readers  (for  thrice  learned  ye  are  if  ye 
*have  read  all  that  has  gone  before,  and  nine  times  learned  shall  ye 
Ibe  if  ye  read  that  which  comes  after),  we  have  yet  a  world  of  work 
''before  us.  Think  you  the  first  discoverers  of  this  fair  quarter  of 
the  globe  had  nothing  to  do  but  go  on  shore  and  find  a  country 
•ieady  laid  out  and  cultivated  like  a  garden,  wherein  they  might 
J'revel  at  their  ease?  No  such  thing:  they  had  forests  to  cut  down, 
Nnderwood  to  grub  up,  marshes  to  drain,  and  savages  to  exter- 
minate. 

j  In  like  manner  I  have  sundry  doubts  to  clear  away,  questions  to 
!> -resolve,  and  paradoxes  to  explain,  before  I  permit  you  to  range  at 
random;  but  these  difficulties  once  overcome  we  shall  be  enabled 
Ho  jog  on  right  merrily,  though  the  rest  of  our  history.  Thus  my 
i'work  shall,  in  a  manner,  echo  the  nature  of  the  subject,  in  the 
Isame  manner  as  the  sound  of  poetry  has  been  found  by  certain 


14  WERNER'S  READINGS 

shrewd  critics  to  echo  the  sense,  this  being  an  improvement  in 
history  which  I  claim  the  merit  of  having  invented. 

It  was  on  Friday  morning,  the  12th  of  October,  1492,  that  Co- 
lumbus first  beheld  the  New  World. 

On  landing,  he  threw  himself  on  his  knees,  kissed  the  earth,  and 
returned  thanks  to  God  with  tears  of  joy.  His  example  was  fol- 
lowed by  the  rest,  whose  hearts  indeed  overflowed  with  the  same 
feelings  of  gratitude. 

Columbus  then,  rising,  drew  his  sword,  displayed  the  royal 
standard,  and  took  solemn  possession  in  the  name  of  the  Castilian 
sovereigns,  giving  the  island  the  name  of  San  Salvador.  Having 
complied  with  the  requisite  forms  and  ceremonies,  he  called  upon 
all  present  to  take  the  oath  of  obedience  to  him,  as  admiral  and 
viceroy  representing  the  persons  of  the  sovereigns. 

The  feelings  of  the  crew  now  burst  forth  in  the  most  extravagant 
transports.  They  thronged  about  the  Admiral  with  overilowing 
zeal,  some  embracing  him,  others  kissing  his  hands.  Those  who 
had  been  most  mutinous  aud  turbulent  during  the  voyage,  were 
now  most  devoted  and  enthusiastic.  Some  begged  favors  of  him, 
as  if  he  had  already  wealth  aud  honors  in  his  gift.  Many  abject 
spirits,  who  had  outraged  him  by  their  insolence,  now  crouched  at 
his  feet,  begging  pardon  for  all  the  trouble  they  had  caused  him, 
and  promising  the  blindest  obedience  for  the  future. 

As  Columbus  supposed  himself  to  have  landed  on  au  island  at 
the  extremity  of  India,  he  called  the  natives  by  the  general  appel- 
lation of  Indians,  which  was  universally  adopted  before  the  true 
nature  of  his  discovery  was  known,  and  has  since  been  extended  to 
all  the  aboriginals  of  the  New  World.  The  islanders  were  friendly 
and  gentle.  Their  only  arms  were  lances,  hardened  at  the  end  by 
fire,  or  pointed  with  a  flint,  or  the  teeth  or  bone  of  a  fish.  There 
was  no  iron  to  be  seen,  nor  did  they  appear  acquainted  with  its 
properties;  for  when  a  drawn  sword  was  presented  to  them,  they 
unguardedly  took  it  by  the  edge. 

On  the  following  morning,  at  break  of  day,  the  shore  was 
thronged  with  the  natives;  some  swam  off  to  the  ships,  others  came 


AND   RECITATIONS.  15 

in  light  barks,  which  they  called  canoes,  formed  of  a  single  tree 
hollowed,  and  capable  of  holding  from  one  man  up  to  the  number 
of  forty  or  fifty.     . 

They  were  eager  to  procure  toys  and  trinkets,  not,  apparently, 
from  any  idea  of  their  intrinsic  value,  but  because  everything  from 
the  hands  of  the  strangers  possessed  a  supernatural  virtue  in  their 
eyes,  as  having  been  brought  from  heaven ;  they  even  picked  up 
fragments  of  glass  and  earthenware  as  valuable  prizes. 

The  avarice  of  the  discoverers  was  quickly  excited  by  the  sight 
of  small  ornaments  of  gold,  worn  by  some  of  the  natives  in  their 
noses.  These  the  latter  gladly  exchanged  for  glass  beads  and  hawks' 
bells;  and  both  parties  exulted  in  the  bargain,  no  doubt  admiring 
each  other's  simplicity.  As  gold,  however,  was  an  object  of  royal 
monopoly  in  all  enterprises  of  discovery,  Columbus  forbade  any 
traffic  in  it  without  his  express  sanction;  and  he  put  the  same 
prohibition  on  the  traffic  for  cotton,  reserving  to  the  crown  all 
trade  for  it,  wherever  it  should  be  found  in  any  quantity. 

He  inquired  of  the  natives  where  this  gold  was  procured.  They 
answered  him  by  signs,  pointing  to  the  south,  where,  he  understood 
them,  dwelt  a  king  of  such  wealth  that  he  was  served  in  vessels  of 
wrought  gold.  He  understood,  also,  that  there  was  land  to  the  south, 
the  southwest,  and  the  northwest ;  and  that  the  people  from  the  last- 
mentioned  quarter  frequently  proceeded  to  the  southwest  in  quest 
of  gold  and  precious  stones,  making  in  their  way  descents  upon 
the  islands,  and  carrying  off  the  inhabitants.  Several  of  the  na- 
tives showed  him  scars  of  wounds  received  in  battles  with  these 
invaders.  It  is  evident  that  a  great  part  of  this  fancied  intelligence 
was  self-delusion  on  the  part  of  Columbus;  for  he  was  under  a  spell 
of  imagination  which  gave  its  own  shapes  and  colors  to  every 
object. 

He  was  persuaded  that  he  had  arrived  among  the  islands  de-, 
scribed  by  Marco  Polo  as  lying  opposite  Cathay,  in  the  Chinese 
Sea,  and  he  construed  everything  to  accord  with  the  account  given 
of  those  opulent  regions.  Thus  the  enemies  which  the  native*, 
spoke  of  as  coming  from  the  northwest,  he  concluded  to  be  the 


16  WERNER'S   READINGS 

people  of  the  mainland  of  Asia,  the  subjects  of  the  great  Khan  of 
Tartary,  who  were  represented  by  the  Venetian  traveller  as  accus- 
tomed to  make  war  upon  the  islands,  and  to  enslave  their  inhabi- 
tants. The  country  to  the  south,  abounding  in  gold,  could  be  no 
other  than  the  famous  island  of  Cipango;  and  the  king,  who  was 
served  out  of  vessels  of  gold,  must  be  the  monarch  whose  magnifi- 
cent city  and  gorgeous  palace,  covered  with  plates  of  gold,  had 
been  extolled  in  such  splendid  terms  by  Marco  Polo. 

After  a  brief  interval,  the  sovereigns  requested  of  Columbus  a 
recital  of  his  adventures.  His  manner  was  sedate  and  dignified, 
but  warmed  by  the  glow  of  natural  enthusiasm.  He  enumerated  the 
several  islands  he  had  visited,  expatiated  on  the  temperate  char- 
acter of  the  climate,  and  the  capacity  of  the  soil  for  every  variety 
of  production,  appealing  to  the  samples  imported  by  him  as  evi- 
dence of  their  natural  productiveness.  He  dwelt  more  at  large  on 
the  precious  metals  to  be  found  in  these  islands,  which  he  inferred 
less  from  the  specimens  actually  obtained  than  from  the  uniform 
testimony  of  the  natives  to  their  abundance  in  the  unexplored 
regions  of  the  interior.  Lastly,  he  pointed  out  the  wide  scope 
afforded  to  Christian  zeal  in  the  illumination  of  a  race  of  men 
whose  minds,  far  from  being  wedded  to  any  system  of  idolatry, 
were  prepared  by  their  extreme  simplicity  for  the  reception  of  pure 
and  uncorrupted  doctrine. 

The  last  consideration  touched  Isabella's  heart  most  sensibly; 
and  the  whole  audience,  kindled  with  various  emotions  by  the 
speaker's  eloquence,  filled  up  the  perspective  with  the  gorgeous 
coloring  of  their  own  fancies,  as  ambition  or  avarice  or  devotional 
feeling  predominated  in  their  bosoms.  When  Columbus  ceased, 
the  King  and  Queen,  together  with  all  present,  prostrated  them- 
selves on  their  knees  in  grateful  thanksgiving,  while  the  solemn 
strains  of  the  Te  Deum  were  poured  forth  by  the  choir  of  the 
royal  chapel,  as  in  commemoration  of  some  glorious  victory. 

INN*-- 


AND   RECITATIONS.  17 

THE  RETURN  OF  COLUMBUS. 


EPES   SARGENT. 


,,  ,  Don  Gomez,  a  Grandee. 

1    '  ,,J  Pedro,  his  secretary. 


DON  GOMEZ.  What?     What  is  all  this  you  tell  me?     Colum- 
bus returned?     A  new  world  discovered?     Impossible! 
Pedro.  It  is  even  so,  sir.     Only  an  hour  since  a  courier  arrived 
;  at  the  palace  with  the  intelligence.     Columbus  was  driven  by  stress 
i  of  weather  to  anchor  in  the  Tagus.     All  Portugal  is  in  a  ferment 
i  of  enthusiasm,  and  all  Spain  will  be  equally  excited  soon.     The 
sensation  is  prodigious. 

Don  G.  Oh,  it  is  a  trick!     It  must  be  a  trick! 
Pedro.  But  he  has  brought  home  the  proofs  of  his  visit — gold 
(and  precious  stones,  strange  plants  and  animals;    and,  above  all, 
specimens  of  a  new  race  of  men,  copper-colored,  with  straight  hair. 
Don  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick !     He  has  been  coasting  along  the 
African  shore,  and  there  collected  a  few  curiosities  which  he  is  pass- 
ing off  for  proofs  of  his  pretended  discovery. 

Pedro.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  his  men  should  be  leagued 
i  in  keeping  up  so  unprofitable  a  falsehood. 

Don  G.  But  'tis  against  reason,  against  common-sense,  against 
:  Scripture,  that  such  a  discovery  should  be  made.     It  must  not  be ! 
It  shall  not  be! 

Pedro.  How  will  your  Excellency  prevent  it?     King  John  of 
Portugal  has  received  him  with  royal  magnificence,  has  listened  to 
Ihis  accounts,  and  is  persuaded  that  they  are  true. 

Don  G.  We  shall  see,  we  shall  see.  Look  you,  sir,  a  plain, 
matter-of-fact  man,  such  as  I,  is  not  to  be  taken  in  by  any  such 
preposterous  story.  This  vaunted  discovery  will  turnout  no  dis- 
covery at  all.     Mark  my  words. 

Pedro.  The  King  and  Queen  have  given  orders  for  prepara- 
tions on  the  most  magnificent  scale  for  the  reception  of  Columbus. 
2 


J8  WERNER'S    READINGS 

Don"  G.  What  delusion!  Her  Majesty  is  so  credulous!  A 
practical,  common-sense  man  like  myself  can  find  no  points  of 
sympathy  in  such  a  nature. 

Pedro.  The  Indians  on  board  of  the  returned  vessels  are  said 
to  be  unlike  any  known  race  of  men. 

Don  G.  Very  unreliable,  all  that.  I  take  the  common-sense 
view  of  the  affair.  lam  a  matter-of-fact  man;  and,  remember 
what  I  say — it  will  all  turn  out  a  trick.  The  crews  may  have  been 
deceived.  Columbus  may  have  steered  a  southerly  course  instead 
of  a  westerly.  Anything  is  probable,  rather  than  that  a  coast  to 
the  westward  of  us  has  been  discovered. 

Pedro.  I  saw  the  courier ;  he  told  me  he  had  conversed  with 
all  the  sailors,  and  they  laughed  at  the  suspicion  that  there 
could  be  any  mistake  about  the  discovery,  or  that  any  other  but  a 
westerly  course  could  have  been  steered. 

Don  G.  Still  I  say,  a  trick !  An  unknown  coast  reached  by 
steering  west?  Impossible!  The  earth  a  globe  and  men  standing 
with  their  heads  down  in  space?  Polly!  An  ignorant  sailor  from 
Genoa  in  the  right,  and  all  our  learned  doctors  and  philosophers 
in  the  wrong?  Infatuation!  I  am  a  matter-of-fact  man.  sir.  I 
will  believe  what  I  can  see  and  handle  and  understand.  But  as  for 
believing  in  the  antipodes,  or  that  the  earth  is  round,  or  that 
Columbus  has  discovered  land  to  the  west — oh,  dear!  if  it  should 
prove  true,  how  the  Queen  will  jeer  me !  Ring  the  bell,  sir.  Order 
the  carriage.  I  will  go  at  once  to  the  palace  and  undeceive  the 
King  and  Queen. 


THE  RETURN   OF  COLUMBUS. 


WILLIAM    II.    PRESCOTT. 


IN  the  spring  of  1493,  while  the  court  was  still  at  Barcelona, 
letters  were  received  from  Christopher  Columbus,  announc- 
ing his  return  to  Spain  and  the  successful  achievement  of  his  great 
enterprise,  by  the  discovery  of  land   beyond  the  western  ocean. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  19 

The  delight  and  astonishment,  raised  by  this  intelligence,  were 
proportioned  to  the  skepticism  with  which  his  project  had  been 
originally  viewed.  The  sovereigns  were  now  filled  with  a  natural 
impatience  to  ascertain  the  extent  and  particulars  of  the  important 
discovery ;  and  they  transmitted  instant  instructions  to  the  Admiral 
to  repair  to  Barcelona  as  soon  as  he  should  have  made  the  pre- 
liminary arrangements  for  the  further  prosecution  of  his  enterprise. 

Great  was  the  agitation  in  the  little  community  of  Palos,  as 
they  beheld  the  well-known  vessel  of  the  Admiral  reentering  their 
harbor.  Their  desponding  imaginations  had  long  since  consigned 
him  to  a  watery  grave ;  for,  in  addition  to  the  preternatural  horrors 
which  hung  over  the  voyage,  they  had  experienced  the  most  stormy 
and  disastrous  winter  within  the  recollection  of  the  oldest  mariners. 
Most  of  them  had  relatives  or  friends  on  board.  They  thronged 
immediately  to  the  shore,  to  assure  themselves  with  their  own  eyes 
of  the  truth  of  their  return.  "When  they  beheld  their  faces  once 
more,  and  saw  them  accompanied  by  the  numerous  evidences  which 
they  brought  back  of  the  success  of  the  expedition,  they  burst  forth 
in  acclamation  of  joy  and  gratulation.  They  awaited  the  landing 
of  Columbus,  when  the  whole  population  of  the  place  accompanied, 
him  and  his  crew  to  the  principal  church,  where  solemn  thanks- 
givings were  offered  up  for  their  return,  while  every  bell  in  the 
village  sent  forth  a  joyous  peal  in  honor  of  the  glorious  event. 

The  Admiral  was  too  desirous  of  presenting  himself  before  the 
sovereigns  to  protract  his  stay  long  in  Palos.  He  took  with  him  on 
his  journey  specimens  of  the  multifarious  products  of  the  newly 
discovered  regions.  He  was  accompanied  by  several  of  the  native 
islanders,  arrayed  in  their  simple  barbaric  costume,  and  decorated, 
as  he  passed  through  the  principal  cities,  with  collars,  bracelets, 
and  other  ornaments  of  gold,  rudely  fashioned.  He  exhibited  also 
considerable  quantities  of  the  same  metal  in  dust,  or  in  crude 
masses,  numerous  vegetable  exotics  possessed  of  aromatic  or  medici- 
nal virtues,  several  kinds  of  quadrupeds  unknown  in  Europe,  and 
birds  whose  varieties  of  gaudy  plumage  gave  a  brilliant  effect  to  the 
pageant.     The  Admiral's  progress  through  the  country  was  every- 


20  WERNER'S    READINGS 

where  impeded  by  the  multitudes  thronging  forth  to  gaze  at  the  ex- 
traordinary spectacle,  and  the  more  extraordinary  man,  who,  in 
the  emphatic  language  of  that  time,  which  has  now  lost  its  force 
from  its  familiarity,  first  revealed  the  existence  of  a  "new  world." 
As  he  passed  through  the  busy,  populous  city  of  Seville,  every  win- 
dow-balcony, and  house-top,  which  could  afford  a  glimpse  of  him,  is 
described  to  have  been  crowded  with  spectators. 

It  was  the  middle  of  April  before  Columbus  reached  Barcelona. 
The  nobility  and  cavaliers  in  attendance  on  the  court,  together 
with  the  authorities  of  the  city,  came  to  the  gates  to  receive  him, 
and  escorted  him  to  the  royal  presence.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
were  seated,  with  their  son,  Prince  John,  under  a  superb  canopy 
of  state,  awaiting  his  arrival.  On  his  approach  they  rose  from 
their  seats,  and,  extending  their  hands  to  him  to  salute,  caused 
him  to  be  seated  before  them.  These  were  unprecedented  marks 
of  condescension  to  a  person  of  Columbus's  rank,  in  the  haughty 
and  ceremonious  court  of  Castile. 

It  was,  indeed,  the  proudest  moment  in  the  life  of  Columbus. 
He  had  fully  established  the  truth  of  his  long-contested  theory,  in 
the  face  of  argument,  sophistry,  sneers,  skepticism,  and  contempt. 
He  had  achieved  this  not  by  chance,  but  by  calculation,  supported 
through  the  most  adverse  circumstances  by  consummate  conduct. 
The  honors  paid  him,  which  had  hitherto  been  reserved  only  for 
rank,  or  fortune,  or  military  success,  purchased  by  the  blood  and 
tears  of  thousands,  were,  in  his  case,  a  homage  to  intellectual 
power,  successfully  exerted  in  behalf  of  the  noblest  interests  of 
humanity. 

The  discoveries  of  Columbus  excited  a  sensation,  particularly 
among  men  of  science,  in  the  most  distant  parts  of  Europe, 
strongly  contrasting  with  the  apathy  which  had  preceded  them. 
They  congratulated  one  another  on  being  reserved  for  an  age 
which  had  witnessed  the  consummation  of  so  grand  an  event. 
Most  of  the  scholars  of  the  day,  however,  adopted  the  erroneous 
hypothesis  of  Columbus,  who  considered  the  lands  he  had  dis- 
covered as  bordering  on  the  eastern  shores  of  Asia,  and  lying  ad- 


AND    RECITATIONS.  21 

ijacent  to  the  vast  and  opulent  regions  depicted  in  such  golden 
colors  by  Mandeville  and  Polo.  This  conjecture,  which  was  con- 
formable to  the  Admiral's  opinions  before  undertaking  the  voyage, 
was  corroborated  by  the  apparent  similarity  between  various  produc- 
tions of  these  islands  and  of  the  east.  From  this  misapprehension 
the  new  dominions  soon  came  to  be  distinguished  as  the  West 
Indies,  an  appellation  by  which  they  are  still  recognized  in  the 
titles  of  the  Spanish  crown. 


THE   DISCOVERY  OF  THE   HUDSON   RIVER. 


WASHINGTON"   IKVING. 


[In  1609  Henry  Hudson,  an  Englishman  in  the  service  of  the  Dutch,  on 
i  voyage  in  quest  of  a  northwest  passage  to  India,  discovered  the  river 
ivhich  bears  his  name.  Two  Dutch  forts  were  erected  in  1614,  one  at 
Albany  and  one  on  Manhattan  Island,  where  the  city  of  New  York  now 
stands.  The  country  was  called  New  Netherlands,  and  the  settlement  on 
Manhattan  Island  was  named  New  Amsterdam.  These  names  were  re- 
;ained  until  the  conquest  of  the  country  by  the  English.  Charles  II.  of 
England  granted  the  country  to  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York,  in  whose 
xonor  the  country  and  city  were  named.  ] 


IN  the  ever-memorable  year  .of  our  Lord  1609,  on  a  Saturday 
morning,  the  five-and-twentieth  day  of  March,  old  style,  did 
hhat  "  worthy  and  irrecoverable  discoverer  (as  he  has  justly  been 
called),  Master  Henry  Hudson,"  set  sail  from  Holland  in  a  stout 
.ressel  called  the  Half-Moon,  being  employed  by  the  Dutch  East 
india  Company,  to  seek  a  northwest  passage  to  China. 

Henry  (or,  as  the  Dutch  historians  call  him,  Hendrick)  Hudson 
vas  a  seafaring  man  of  renown,  who  had  learned  to  smoke  tobacco 
under  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the  first  to  in- 
roduce  it  into  Holland,  which  gained  him  much  popularity  in 
hat  country,  and  caused  him  to  find  great  favor  in  the  eyes  of 
heir  High  Mightinesses,  the  Lords  States-General,  and  also  of  the 
.onorable  East  India  Company.  He  was  a  short,  square,  brawny 
Id  gentleman,  with  a  double  chin,  a  mastiff  mouth,  and  a  broad 
opper  nose,  which  was  supposed  in  those  days  to  have  acquired  its 


22  WERNER'S   READINGS 

fiery  hue  from  the  constant  neighborhood  of  his  tobacco-pipe. 
Such  was  Hendrick  Hudson,  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much, 
and  know  so  little;  and  I  have  been  thus  particular  in  his  descrip- 
tion for  the  benefit  of  modern  painters  and  statuaries,  that  they 
may  represent  him  as  he  was,  and  not,  according  to  their  common 
custom  with  modern  heroes,  make  him  look  like  Caesar,  or  Marcus 
Aurelius,  or  the  Apollo  of  Belvidere. 

As  chief  mate  and  favorite  companion,  the  commodore  chose 
Master  Robert  Juet,  of  Limehouse,  in  England.  He  was  an  old 
comrade  and  early  schoolmate  of  the  great  Hudson,  with  whom 
he  had  often  played  truant  and  sailed  chip  boats  in  a  neighboring 
pond,  when  they  were  little  boys;  from  whence  it  is  said  that  the 
commodore  first  derived  his  bias  toward  a  seafaring  life. 

From  all  that  I  can  learn,  few  incidents  worthy  of  remark  hap- 
pened in  the  voyage;  and  it  mortifies  me  exceedingly  that  I  have 
to  admit  so  noted  an  expedition  into  my  work,  without  making 
any  more  of  it.  Suffice  it  to  say,  the  voyage  was  prosperous  and 
tranquil ;  the  crew  beiug  a  patient  people,  much  given  to  slumber 
and  vacuity,  and  but  little  troubled  with  the  disease  of  thinking — 
a  malady  of  the  mind  which  is  the  sure  breeder  of  discontent. 
Hudson  had  laid  in  abundance  of  gin  and  sour-krout,  and  every 
man  was  allowed  to  sleep  quietly  at  his  post  unless  the  wind  blew. 

Being  under  the  especial  guidance  of  Providence,  the  ship  was 
safely  conducted  to  the  coast  of  America,  where,  after  sundry  unim- 
portant touchings  and  standings  off  and  on,  she  at  length,  on  the 
fourth  day  of  September,  entered  that  majestic  bay  which  at  thia 
day  expands  its  ample  bosom  before  the  city  of  New  York,  and 
which  had  never  before  been  visited  by  any  European. 

After  tarrying  a  few  days  in  the  bay,  in  order  to  refresh  them- 
selves after  their  seafaring,  our  voyagers  weighed  anchor,  to  explore 
a  mighty  river  which  emptied  into  the  bay.  This  river,  it  is  said, 
was  known  among  the  savages  by  the  name  of  the  Shatemuck; 
though  we  are  assured  in  an  excellent  little  history,  published  in 
1674,  by  John  Josselyn,  Gent.,  that  it  was  called  the  Mohegan,  and 
Master  Richard  Bloome,  who  wrote  some  time  afterward,  asserts 


AND   RECITATIONS.  23 

the  same;  so  that  I  very  much  incline  in  favor  of  the  opinion  of 
these  two  honest  gentlemen. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  up  this  river  did  the  adventurous  Hendrick 
proceed,  little  doubting  but  it  would  turn  out  to  be  the  much 
looked-for  passage  to  China.  After  sailing,  however,  above  a 
hundred  miles  up  the  river,  he  found  the  watery  world  around  him 
began  to  grow  more  shallow  and  confined,  the  current  more  rapid, 
and  perfectly  fresh — phenomena  not  uncommon  in  the  ascent  of 
rivers,  but  which  puzzled  the  honest  Dutchman  prodigiously.  A 
consultation  was,  therefore,  called,  and  having  deliberated  full  six 
hours,  they  were  brought  to  a  determination  by  the  ship's  running 
aground. 

Being  satisfied  that  there  was  little  likelihood  of  getting  to 
China,  unless,  like  the  blind  man,  he  returned  from  whence  he  set 
out  and  took  a  fresh  start,  he  forthwith  re-crossed  the  sea  to 
Holland,  where  he  was  received  with  great  welcome  by  the  honor- 
able East  India  Company,  avIio  were  very  much  rejoiced  to  see  him 
come  back  safe — with  their  ship.  At  a  large  and  respectable  meet- 
ing of  the  first  merchants  and  burgomasters  of  Amsterdam,  it 
was  unanimously  determined  that,  as  a  munificent  reward  for 
the  eminent  services  he  had  performed,  and  the  important  dis- 
covery he  had  made,  the  great  river  Mohegan  should  be  called 
after  his  name;  and  it  continues  to  be  called  Hudson  Eiver  unto 
this  very  day. 


MRS.    CHRISTOPHER  COLUMBUS. 


MAEIE    SESSIONS    COWELL. 


WHY  is  it,  I  wonder,  that  we  never  hear  of  Mrs.  Christopher 
Columbus?  Perhaps  people  would  smile  if  one  were  to  say 
that  America  was  really  discovered  by  a  woman.  And  yet  it  is 
true  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  wife,  Columbus  never  would 
have  had  the  ambition  to  discover  anything. 

If  one  must  believe  that  when  one  looks  closely  into  any  great 


24  WERNER'S   READINGS 

crime  a  woman  will  always  be  found  at  the  bottom  of  it,  why  not 
equally  true  that  she  will  be  found  as  a  stimulator  of  good  deeds? 
Certainly  Mrs.  Christopher  was  the  ruling  influence  in  the  life  of 
her  liege  lord. 

About  the  year  1470,  Columbus  went  to  live  at  Lisbon.  There 
he  met  and  fell  in  love  with  Dofla  Felipa,  daughter  of  the  deceased 
Bartolomeo  Monis  de  Palestrello,  an  Italian  cavalier,  and  a  naviga- 
tor of  great  distinction,  who  had  colonized  and  governed  the  island 
of  Porto  Santo. 

Bartolomeo  and  his  daughter  Felipa  had  been  the  closest  of 
friends,  and  on  many  of  his  voyages  she  had  been  his  constant  com- 
panion. She  had  inherited  his  love  of  adventure,  and,  having  a 
fine  artistic  nature,  she  it  was  who  wrote  her  father's  journal,  drew 
his  maps  and  geographical  charts,  and  later,  at  his  dictation,  wrote 
many  valuable  books  and  papers  relative  to  his  voyages. 

When  Bartolomeo  died,  he  left  to  his  daughter  all  his  papers, 
charts  and  journals,  and  land  on  the  island  of  Porto  Santo.  It 
was  there  Felipa  went  to  live  with  Columbus  after  their  marriage. 
There  they  lived  happily  and  quietly  for  several  years.  There 
their  son  Diego  was  born. 

Felipa  had  always  been  ambitious  for  her  father,  and  encouraged 
him  in  his  explorations  when  many  thought  them  simply  adven- 
turous follies.     Now  she  transferred  these  ambitions  to  her  husband. 

To  be  sure,  Columbus  had  always  hoped  and  dreamed  that  he 
might  some  day  become  an  explorer  and  a  discoverer;  but,  like  so 
many  men,  his  ideas  would  probably  have  always  remained  dreams, 
had  he  not  found  a  wife  who  encouraged  him,  stimulated  his  am- 
bition, helped  him,  influenced  him  in  innumerable  little  ways  as 
only  a  woman  can. 

Their  life  at  Porto  Santo  was  necessarily  a  quiet  one,  and  Co- 
lumbus, perhaps  because  he  loved  his  wife,  perhaps  because  he  had 
no  one  else  to  go  to,  came  to  rely  more  and  more  upon  her  for 
society  and  for  sympathy.  Then  her  opportunity  came.  She  read 
to  him,  studied  with  him,  talked  with  him,  told  him  of  the  voyages 
she  had  made  with  her  father ;  of  his  ideas;  the  different  naviga- 


AND   RECITATIONS.  25 

>rs,  friends,  and  companions  of  her  father  whom  she  had  known ; 
E  the  opinions  they  had  held ;  of  the  breathless  interest  with 
hich  she  had  listened  to  their  many  discussions.  And  she  pictured 
o  him  the  glory  and  honor  that  would  be  his,  were  he  to  become 

successful  explorer,  and  she  suggested  a  possible  country  in  the 
ar  west.  Finally  she  roused  in  him  an  enthusiasm  equal  to  her 
wn. 

Then  came  his  struggle  for  recognition.  It  was  his  wife  who 
:ood  by  him,  cheering  and  sustaining  him  when  others  ridiculed, 
t  was  her  indomitable  will  that  forced  him  to  be  courageous  and 
ersevering,  when  oftentimes  in  his  despair  he  was  ready  to  give 
p  everything. 

These  were  hard  days  for  Felipa;  besides  her  anxiety  for  her 
usband's  welfare,  she  endured  uncomplainingly  many  days  and 
ights  of  pain.  She  knew  that  her  life  was  drawing  to  a  close, 
nd  she  longed  to  live  that  she  might  see  the  fulfilment  of  her  de- 
res.  But  it  was  not  to  be.  Until  the  very  last  she  forced  her- 
jlf  to  think  for  Columbus  and  to  forget  herself.  When  she  was 
ying  she  called  him  to  her  and  told  him  that  she  felt  sure  Queen 
sabella  of  Spain  would  assist  him,  and  begged  him  to  promise  her 
lat  he  would  go  to  the  Queen  and  implore  her  aid.  Poor  Felipa! 
le  died  without  knowing  the  success  of  her  heart's  wish. 

If  Christopher   Columbus  discovered  America,  certainly  Felij 
iscovered  the  latent  genius  in  Columbus,  and  by  her  remarks 
ifluence   helped   him   to   his   life's   work.      Why   doesn'tj 
''hristopher  Columbus  deserve  some  recognition  also? 


COLUMBUS. 


DEVERE. 


THE  crimson  sun  was  sinking  down  to  rest, 
Pavilioned  on  the  cloudy  verge  of  heaven, 
And  Ocean,  on  her  gently  heaving  breast, 

Caught  and  flashed  back  the  varying  tints  of  even; 


26  WERNER'S   READINGS 

When  on  a  fragment  from  the  tall  cliff  riven, 

With  folded  arms  and  doubtful  thoughts  oppressed, 

Columbus  sat,  till  sudden  hope  was  given — 
A  ray  of  gladness,  shooting  from  the  west. 

Oh,  what  a  glorious  vision  for  mankind 

Then  dawned  above  the  twilight  of  his  mind — 
Thoughts  shadowy  still,  but  indistinctly  grand! 

There  stood  his  Genius,  face  to  face,  and  signed 
(So  legends  tell)  far  seaward  with  her  hand — 
Till  a  new  world  sprang  up  and  bloomed  beneath  her  wand. 

He  was  a  man  whom  danger  could  not  daunt, 

Nor  sophistry  perplex,  nor  pain  subdue ; 
A  stoic,  reckless  of  the  world's  vain  taunt, 
And  steeled  the  path  of  honor  to  pursue; 
So,  when  by  all  deserted,  still  he  knew 

How  best  to  sooth  the  heart-sick,  or  confront 
Sedition,  schooled  with  equal  eye  to  view 

The  frowns  of  grief  and  the  base  pangs  of  want. 
But  when  he  saw  that  promised  land  arise 
In  all  its  rare  and  bright  varieties, 
Lovelier  than  fondest  fancy  ever  trod; 
softening  nature  melted  in  his  eyes; 
knew  his  fame  was  full,  and  blessed  his  God, 
fell  upon  his  face  and  kissed  the  virgin  sod. 


CHRISTOPHER  C- 


N  the  city  of  Genoa,  over  the  sea, 
In  a  beautiful  land  called  Italy, 
fThere  lived  a  sailor  called  Christopher  C — 
'A  very  wise  man  for  his  time  was  he. 

'He  studied  the  books  and  maps  and  charts, 
All  that  they  knew  about  foreign  parts; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  2? 

And  he  said  to  himself :  "  There  certainly  oughter 
Be  some  more  land  to  balance  the  water. 

"As  sure  as  a  gun,  the  earth  is  round; 
Some  day  or  other  a  way  will  be  found 
To  get  to  the  east  by  sailing  west; 
Why  shouldn't  I  find  it  as  well  as  the  rest?  " 

The  court  philosopher  shook  his  head. 
Laughing  at  all  that  Christopher  said ; 

But  the  Queen  of  Spain  said,  "  Christopher  C , 

Here  is  some  money;  go  and  see." 

That  is  just  what  he  wanted  to  do, 
And  in  fourteen  hundred  and  ninety-two 
From  the  port  of  Palos,  one  August  day, 
This  Christopher  C went  sailing  away. 

He  sailed  and  sailed  with  wind  and  tide, 
But  lie  never  supposed  that  the  sea  was  so  wide. 
And  the  sailors  grumbled  and  growled,  and  cried, 
"  We  don't  believe  there's  another  side. 

"  Oh,  take  us  back  to  our  native  shore, 
Or  we  never  shall  see  our  wives  any  more! 

Take  us  back,  0  Christopher  C ■ 

Or  we'll  tumble  you  overboard  into  the  sea." 

In  spite  of  their  threats  he  wouldn't  do  it: 
There  was  land  ahead,  and  Christopher  knew  it. 
They  found  San  Salvador,  green  and  low, 
And  the  captain  shouted,  "  I  told  you  so! 

"  This  is  the  land  King  Solomon  knew, 
Where  myrrh  and  aloes  and  spices  grew. 
Where  gold  and  silver  and  gems  are  found, 
Plentv  as  pebbles  all  over  the  ground." 


28  WERNER'S   READINGS 

They  thought  they  had  sailed  clear  round  the  hall, 
But  it  wasn't  the  other  side  at  all, 
But  an  island  lyiug  just  off  a  shore 
Nobody  had  ever  seen  before. 

They  planted  their  flag  on  a  flowery  plain, 
To  show  that  the  country  belonged  to  Spain; 
But  it  never  once  entered  Christopher's  mind 
That  North  America  lay  behind. 

Then  Christopher  C he  sailed  away, 

And  said  he  would  come  another  day; 
Bat  if  he  had  stayed  here  long  enough, 
We  should  talk  Spanish  or  some  such  stuff. 


THE   DISCOVERY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI. 


GEORGE    BANCROFT. 


[Mississippi  River,  Indian  name  Miclie  Sepe,  Great  River,  literal 
"Father  of  Waters, "  the  longest  river  in  the  world,  was  discovered  1 
Ferdinand  De  Soto,  June,  1541,  he  being  the  first  European  to  look  up< 
the  famous  stream.  The  main  part  of  the  river  was  discovered  by  1 
Salle  in  February,  1682.  ] 

[The  French  having  been  the  first  discoverers  of  the  Mississippi  Rivf 
claimed  the  country  watered  by  it  and  its  tributaries.  They  attempted 
connect  their  colonies  in  Canada  and  Louisiana  by  a  line  of  militu 
posts.  The  British  government  directed  the  Americans  to  oppose  tl 
plan  by  force  of  arms.  George  Washington,  then  22  years  of  age,  wa 
in  1753,  appointed  colonel  of  the  regiment.  War  was  formally  declar 
in  1756.  By  the  Peace  of  Paris,  in  1763,  all  French  possessions  in  Ami 
ica  were  confirmed  to  Great  Britain.] 


THE  long-expected  discovery  of  the  Mississippi  was  accomplish 
by  James  Marquette  and  Louis  Joliet.  The  enterprise  w 
favored  by  Talon,  who,  on  the  point  of  quitting  Canada,  wished 
signalize  the  last  years  of  the  stay  by  opening  for  France  the  w: 
to  the  western  ocean ;  and  who,  immediately  on  the  "arrival 
Frontenac  from  France,  in  1072,  had  advised  him  to  employ  Loi 
Joliet  in  the  discovery.     Joliet  was  a  native  of  Quebec,  educated 


AND   RECITATIONS.  29 

its  college,  and  a  man  "  of  great  experience"  as  a  wayfarer  in  the 
wilderness.  He  had  already  been  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  great 
river  which  was  called  the  Mississippi,  and  which  at  that  time  was 
supposed  to  discharge  itself  into  the  Gulf  of  California;  and  early 
in  1673  he  entered  on  his  great  career. 

Behold,  then,  in  1673,  on  the  tenth  day  of  June,  James  Mar- 
quette and  Louis  Joliet,  five  Frenchmen  as  companions,  and  two 
Algonquins  as  guides,  dragging  their  two  canoes  across  the  narrow 
portage  that  divides  the  Fox  River  from  the  Wisconsin.  They 
reach  the  water-shed.  Uttering  a  special  prayer  to  the  Immacu- 
late Virgin,  they  leave  the  streams  that  could  have  borne  their 
greetings  to  the  castle  of  Quebec.  "The  guides  returned,"  says 
the  gentle  Marquette,  "  leaving  us  alone,  in  this  unknown  land,  in 
the  hands  of  Providence." 

Embarking  on  the  broad  Wisconsin,  the  discoverers  went  soli- 
tarily down  its  current,  between  alternate  plains  and  hillsides,  be- 
holding neither  man  nor  familiar  beasts.  No  sound  broke  the 
silence  but  the  ripple  of  their  canoes  and  the  lowing  of  the 
buffalo.  In  seven  days  "  they  entered  happily  the  Great  Eiver, 
with  a  joy  that  could  not  be  expressed,"  and  raising  their  sails  un- 
der new  skies  and  to  unknown  breezes,  floated  down  the  calm  mag- 
nificence of  the  ocean  stream,  over  the  broad,  clear  sand-bars,  the 
resort  of  innumerable  water-fowl,  through  clusters  of  islets  tufted 
with  massive  thickets,  and  between  the  natural  parks  of  Illinois 
and  Iowa. 

About  sixty  leagues  below  the  Wisconsin  the  western  bank  of 
the  Mississippi  bore  on  its  sands  the  trail  of  men ;  a  little  foot- 
path was  discovered  leading  into  beautiful  fields;  and,  leaving  the 
canoes,  Joliet  and  Marquette  resolved  alone  to  brave  a  meeting 
with  the  savages.  After  walking  six  miles,  they  beheld  a  village 
on  the  banks  of  a  river,  and  two  others  on  a  slope,  at  a  distance  of 
a  mile  and  a  half  from  the  first.  The  river  was  the  Moingona,  of 
which  we  have  corrupted  the  name  into  Des  Moines.  Marquette 
and  Joliet,  the  first  white  men  Avho  trod  the  soil  of  Iowa,  com- 
mending themselves  to  God,  uttered  a  loud  cry.     Four  old  men 


30  WERNER'S   READINGS 

advanced  slowly  to  meet  them,  bearing  the  peace-pipe  brilliant  with 
many  colored  plumes.  "  We  are  Illinois,"  said  they — that  is,  when 
translated,  "We  are  men;'"'  and  they  offered  the  calumet.  An 
aged  chief  received  them  at  his  cabin  with  upraised  hands,  ex- 
claiming: "  How  beautiful  is  the  sun,  Frenchman,  when  thou  comest 
to  visit  us!  Our  whole  village  awaits  thee;  thou  shalt  enter  in 
peace  into  all  our  dwellings."  And  the  pilgrims  were  followed  by 
the  devouring  gaze  of  an  astonished  crowd. 

The  little  group  proceeded  onward.  "I  did  not  fear  death," 
says  Marquette,  in  July;  "I  should  have  esteemed  it  the  greatest 
happiness  to  have  died  for  the  glory  of  God."  They  passed  the 
perpendicular  rocks,  which  wore  the  appearance  of  monsters. 
They  heard  at  a  distance  the  noise  of  the  waters  of  the  Missouri, 
known  to  them  by  its  Algonquin  name  of  Pekitanoni ;  and,  when 
they  came  to  the  grandest  confluence  of  rivers  in  the  world — where 
the  swifter  Missouri  rushes  like  a  conqueror  into  the  calmer  Miss- 
issippi, dragging  it,  as  it  were,  hastily  to  the  sea — the  good  Mar- 
quette resolved  in  his  heart  one  day  to  ascend  the  mighty  river  to 
its  source;  to  cross  the  ridge  that  divides  the  oceans,  and,  descend- 
ing a  westerly  flowing  stream,  to  publish  the  gospel  to  all  the  people 
of  this  New  World. 

Having  descended  below  the  entrance  of  the  Arkansas,  and  hav- 
ing become  certain  that  the  father  of  rivers  went  not  to  the  Gulf 
of  California,  but  was  undoubtedly  the  river  of  the  Spiritu  Santo 
of  the  Spaniards,  which  pours  its  flood  of  waters  into  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  on  the  seventeenth  of  July  Marquette  and  Joliet  left 
Arkansas,  and  ascended  the  Mississippi,  having  the  greatest  diffi- 
culty in  stemming  its  currents.  At  the  thirty-eighth  degree  of 
latitude  they  entered  the  river  Illinois,  which  was  broad  and  deep 
and  peaceful  in  its  flow.  Its  banks  were  without  a  paragon  for  its 
prairies  and  its  forests,  its  buffaloes  and  deer,  its  turkeys  and  geese, 
and  many  kinds  of  game,  and  even  beavers;  and  there  were  many 
small  lakes  and  rivulets. 

"When  I  was  told  of  a  country  without  trees,"  wrote  Joliet,  "I 
imagined  a  country  that  had  been  burned  over,  or  of  a  soil  too  poor 


AND    RECITATIONS.  31 

to  produce  anything;  but  we  have  remarked  just  the  contrary,  and 
it  would  be  impossible  to  find  a  better  soil  for  grain,  for  vines,  or 
any  fruits  whatever."  He  held  the  country  on  the  Illinois  River  to 
be  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  easy  to  colonize.  "  There  is  no 
need,"  he  said,  "  that  an  emigrant  should  employ  ten  years  in  cut- 
ting down  the  forest,  and  burning  it.  On  the  day  of  his  arrival 
the  emigrant  could  put  the  plough  into  the  earth." 

The  tribe  of  the  Illinois  entreated  Marquette  to  come  and  re- 
side among  them.  One  of  their  chiefs,  with  their  young  men, 
guided  the  party  to  the  portage,  which  in  spring  and  the  early  part 
of  summer  was  but  half  a  league  long,  and  they  easily  reached  the 
lake.  "  The  place  at  which  we  entered  the  lake,"  to  use  the  words 
>of  Joliet,  "  is  a  harbor  very  convenient  to  receive  ships,  and  to 
•give  them  protection  against  the  wind."  Before  the  end  of  Sep- 
tember the  explorers  were  safe  in  Green  Bay,  but  Marquette  was 
exhausted  by  his  labors. 

In  1675  Marquette,  who  had  been  delayed  by  his  failing  health 
for  more  than  a  year,  rejoined  the  Illinois  on  their  river.  Assem- 
bling the  tribe,  whose  chiefs  and  men  were  reckoned  at  two  thou- 
sand, he  raised  before  them  pictures  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  spoke  to 
them  of  One  who  had  died  on  the  cross  for  all  men,  and  built  an 
altar  and  said  mass  in  their  presence  on  the  prairie.  Again  cele- 
brating the  mystery  of  the  Eucharist,  on  Easter  Sunday,  he  took 
possession  of  the  land  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  there  founded 
ia  mission. 

This  work  being  accomplished,  his  health  failed  him,  and  he 
began  a  journey  through  Chicago  to  Mackinaw.  On  the  way, 
feeling  himself  arrested  by  the  approach  of  death,  he  entered  a 
little  river  in  Michigan,  and  was  set  on  shore  that  he  might 
breathe  his  last  in  peace.  He  repeated  in  solitude  all  his  acts  of 
devotion  of  the  preceding  days.  When,  after  a  little  while,  his  com- 
panions returned  to  him,  they  found  him  passing  gently  away  near 
the  stream  that  has  taken  his  name.  On  its  highest  bank  the 
canoe-men  dug  his  grave.  To  a  city,  a  county,  and  a  river, 
Michigan  has  given  his  name. 


32 


WERNER'S    READINGS 


FROM  THE  OLD  WORLD  TO  THE  NEW 


LIZZIE    M.    HADLEY. 


Characters 


Christopher  Columbus. 

Domenico,  ) 

Paoli,  >•  Boyish  friends  of  Columbus. 

Ludivico,    ) 

Ignorance,       )  „  ... 

Superstition,  [Genoese  citizens. 

Luis  de  St.  Angel,  A  nobleman. 
Pedro,         "1 
Rodriguez,     q  .-, 
Garcia,         jailors. 

Matheos,     J 
Future,  a  god. 
First  Citizen. 
Second  Citizen. 
Isabella,  Queen  of  Spain. 
First  Spirit. 
L  Second  Spirit. 
Attendants,  Courtiers,  Citizens,  Musicians,  Sailors. 


Scene  I. — Columbus  at  home.  An  ordinary  room.  A  boy  stands  by  the 
window.  He  wears  slippers  or  sandals  ;  long  hose ;  short,  full  pants 
drawn  in  by  an  elastic  a  little  above  the  knees ;  short,  belted  tunic  ; 
Tarn  O'  Shanter  cap  with  a  feather.     Enter  three  boys. 

BOYS.   Christopher,  Christopher!     Where  art  thou? 
Domenico.  Here  he  is,  watching  the  sea  as  usual.     What 
dost  thou  see  there? 

Christopher  {turning  around].  Oh,  wonderful  things.  Great 
ships  sailing  over  the  waters,  and  fair  countries  beyond  the  un- 
known seas,  rich  in  gold,  amber,  precious  stones  and  spices. 

Dom.  [looking  from  window].  I  would  I  might  see  them,  too. 

Chris.  And  canst  thou  not? 

Dom.  Nay;  I  see  naught  hut  the  blue  sea,  with  fishermen's  boats 
upon  it. 

Chris,  [pointing  from  window].  But  beyond  all  these,  away  in 
the  west,  dost  thou  not  see  the  high  mountains  and  green  valleys  of 
that  mystic  isle  of  which  we  oft  have  heard? 

Dom.   [shaking  head].    There's   naught  there.     Thon'rt  but   a 


AND    RECITATIONS.  33 

dreamer.  Come,  awake !  Here  are  Ludivico  and  Paoli  come  to 
share  our  sport.  Don't  stand  there  longer  watching  for  phantom 
isles,  but  come  with  us  and  tell  us  what  to  play. 

Chkis.  [turning  from  window"].  Ay,  marry,  that  I  will.  I  like 
full  well  our  sport.  We'll  play  we're  valiant  sailors.  [All  sing 
chorus  from  "  Pinafore."] 

"We  sail  the  ocean  blue, 

And  our  saucy  ship's  a  beauty ; 
We're  sober  men  and  true, 

And  attentive  to  our  duty. 
When  the  balls  whistle  free,  over  the  bright  blue  sea 

We  stand  to  our  guns  all  day  ; 
When  at  anchor  we  ride  on  the  blue  sea's  tide, 

We  have  plenty  of  time  for  play. " 

Chkis.  In  sooth,  'tis  a  merry  song  and  well  sung.  And  now  for 
sport.  These  chairs  shall  be  our  ships.  Here  is  mine,  waiting  by 
the  sea.     [Points  to  large  arm-chair.]  Who'll  sail  with  me? 

Dom.  Dost  thou  go  a-fishing,  good  Christopher?  Then  I  will  go 
with  thee. 

Paoli.  And  I. 

Ludivico.  And  so  will  I. 

Chkis.  [scornfullg].  Nay;  no  fish  forme.  Let  old  men  and 
babes  catch  the  fish.  I  go  to  fight  the  Venetians,  and  show  them 
what  Genoese  steel  can  do.  Ludivico  and  Domenico  shall  be  the 
Venetians.     Paoli  and  I  will  be  the  Genoans,  and  conquer  thee. 

Lud.    [slyly].   Or  be  conquered  thyself. 

Chkis.  Nay,  friend  Ludivico,  methinks  thou 'It  find  it  a  hard 
task  to  do  that. 

Pao.   [proudly] .  No  one  can  conquer  Christopher. 

Dom.   Ay,  there's  one  can  conquer  him,  I  trow. 

All.  Who  is't?     Tell  us  his  name. 

Dom.  The  schoolmaster,  to  be  sure.  Didst  see  the  caning  he 
gave  Christopher,  but  yesterday? 

Pao,  I  heard  a  whisper  of  it  from  Giuseppe.  How  did  it  come 
about? 

3 


34  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Cheis.  It  was  all  from  the  lesson  in  geography.  In  spite  of 
learned  folk  who  say  to  the  contrary,  the  master  believes  the  earth 
to  be  a  flat  surface  spread  out  beneath  the  sky,  and  bounded  by 
unknown  waters,  full  of  all  sorts  of  strange  and  dreadful  beasts.  I 
did  but  say  it  must  end  somewhere,  and  asked  what  lies  beyond  its 
outmost  bounds;  and  upon  that  he  flew  into  a  passion,  called  me  a 
saucy  vagabond,  forever  asking  idle  questions,  and  used  his  staff 
upon  me. 

Pao.  Then,  doubtless,  thou  didst  beg  his  pardon  and  promise 
to  offend  no  more. 

Chris.  Not  so.  Why  should  I?  I  meant  no  disrespect.  I 
asked  because  I  fain  would  know  what  lies  in  the  strange  seas  "be- 
yond Cape  Bajador.  Perchance  he  does  not  know  himself.  Well, 
it  matters  little  now;  I'll  know  the  whole  some  day. 

Dom.  How  wilt  thou  know? 

Chris.  I'll  go  there  and  see  for  myself. 

Pao.   How  canst  thou  go?     No  ship  hath  sailed  those  waters. 

Chris.  Oh,  when  I'm  a  man,  I'll  have  a  big  ship  of  my  own, 
and  I'll  sail  and  sail  away  into  the  west  until  I  find  the  unknown 
land  that  lies  there. 

Lud.  Thou  mayst  not  do  that,  good  Christopher.  Hast  thou 
not  heard  that  sea  is  full  of  dragons  and  dreadful  beasts  of  prey? 

Chris,  [pretending  to  draw  a  sword].  With  my  good  sword  at 
my  side  I'll  fear  them  not. 

Dom.  [slowly].  Perchance  I  may  go  with  thee — for,  mayhap, 
thou 'It  find  much  treasure  there. 

Chris.  Ay,  we'll  find  the  gems  and  gold  of  far  Cathay,  and,  best 
of  all,  we'll  carry  our  blessed  religion  to  the  poor  heathen  who 
dwell  there.  But  come,  no  more  of  this.  Dost  know  that  I  leave 
thee  to-morrow? 

All  [in  astonishment].  Leave  us  to-morrow?  Where  dost  thou 
go? 

Chris.  To  Pavia. 

Pao.   How  does  that  come  about? 

Chris.   Methinks  the  schoolmaster  repented  of  his  rashness,  for 


AND   RECITATIONS.  35 

in  his  talk  with  father  but  yesternight,  he  said  he  could  teach  me 
no  more,  and  did  recommend  him  to  send  me  to  the  University. 

Lud.  Then  this  is  our  last  day  together.  At  Pavia  thou'lt  find 
new  friends  and  forget  the  old  ones. 

Chris,  [reproachfully].  Thou  shouldst  know  me  better  than 
that,  Ludivico. 

Lud.  But  thou  art  glad  to  go? 

Chris.  Ay,  for  dost  thou  not  see  I'll  learn  of  things  the  master 
cannot  teach  me  here? 

Pao.  And  return  a  wiseacre. 

Chris.  I  would  I  might,  but  a  lifetime's  far  too  short  to  garner 
more  than  crumbs  of  wisdom.  But  see!  \j)oints  to  window]  the 
day  grows  old,  and  we  forget  our  sport.  [Pointing  to  different 
chairs.]  There  lie  the  ships  of  Venice.  Here  those  of  Genoa. 
And  now,  art  ready  for  the  conflict? 

All.  We  are  ready. 

Chris.  Then  have  at  thee  now.  Look  to  thyself,  good  Paoli. 
[Both  rush  at  Domenico  and  Ludivico,  who  defend  themselves,  but 
are  soon  overpotvered.] 

Chris.  Thy  ships  and  lives  are  forfeit  now  to  us,  the  victors. 
Sue  for  mercy,  or  thou  shalt  surely  die. 

Lud.  and  Dom.    [falling  on  knees].  Mercy,  mercy,  noble  captain ! 

Chris.  Dost  swear  eternal  fealty  to  Genoa? 

Lud.  and  Dom.  We  swear. 

Chris.  Then  thou  mayst  go  free.  Thus  Genoa  shall  ever  conquer 
Venice.  And,  since  thou  art  true  Genoans  uoav,  come  join  us  in  a 
song.  [All  join  hands  and  dance  around  singing,  to  the  tune  of  "  We 
are  Little  Soldier  Bogs,"  from  "  Kindergarten  Songs,"  by  E.  Smith.] 

"We  are  little  sailor  boys, 

Singing  here,  together, 
Up  and  down  our  decks  we  go. 

Careless  of  the  weather  ; 
Now  before  our  sturdy  blows 

Enemies  are  falling, 
Little  reck  we  of  our  lives, 

When  our  country's  calling." 


36  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Scene  II. — A  room  in  a  Genoese  house.     Two  citizens,  Ignorance  and 
Superstition,  talk  together. 
Genoese  costume :    Sandals,  long  hose  and  short,  full  pants — same  as 
boys.     A  loose  tunic  or  coat  with  full  sleeves.     This  should  be  of  some 
bright  color. 

Superstition  [sitting  in  arm-chair  partly  bent  over  as  if  with 
age  or  weakness,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully'].  Ah  me !  we've  fallen 
upon  evil  times.  There's  nothing  now  as  it  was  when  you  and  I 
were  young. 

Ignorance.  You  may  well  say  that,  neighbor.  Then  a  boy 
believed  what  he  was  told,  said  his  prayers  like  a  Christian,  and 
ate  the  food  the  good  God  sent  him.  But  nowadays  he's  no  sooner 
out  of  swaddling-clothes  than  he  begins  to  doubt  and  question,  and 
wants  a  reason  for  everything  he  sees;  as  if  God  sent  him  into  the 
world  to  make  an  interrogation  point  of  himself! 

Sup.  Every  word  thou  sayest  is  true,  friend  Ignorance.  Now 
there's  neighbor  Colombo's  son,  just  home  from  Pavia,  with  his 
head  crammed  full  of  learning,  and  forever  talking  of  astrology 
and  navigation  and  of  countries  beyond  the  western  sea.  I've 
heard  he  likes  not  the  honest  trade  of  wool-combing,  but  would 
fain  follow  the  fashion  of  many  another  ne'er-do-well,  and  be- 
come a  sailor.  That's  ever  the  way  with  boys  who  cram  their 
heads  with  new-fangled  ideas,  and  they'll  go  their  own  road  in 
spite  of  all  we  wiser  folk  may  say. 

Ig.  Well,  well!  I've  always  said,  "  Much  learning  is  a  dangerous 
thing,"  and  I  am  more  than  ever  convinced  of  it.  Thank  heaven, 
my  boys  never  wanted  it. 

Sup.  You  may  well  give  thanks  for  that,  good  neighbor;  and 
[lowers  voice]  you  mark  my  words,  neighbor  Colombo's  son '11  come 
to  a  bad  end  yet. 

[Enter  god  of  the  Future.  He  wears  a  long,  flowing  white  robe, 
and  croivn  of  stars  upon  his  head.] 

Future.  And  you  mark  my  words,  neighbor  Colombo's  son'll 
make  a  name  for  himself  yet. 

Ig.  [springing  from  chair].  What  bold  braggart  is  this?  Who 
art  thou,  sirrah,  who  dares  to  give  the  lie  to  neighbor  Superstition? 


AND   RECITATIONS.  37 

Fut.  [solemnly] .  Behold  in  me  one  to  whom  all  men's  faces 
are  ever  turned.  One  who  holds  within  his  grasp  thy  hopes,  thy 
lives,  thy  loves  and  thy  fears.  , 

Ig.  and  Sup.  Thy  name? 

Fut.  Men  call  me  the  Future.  By  One  above  the  power,,  is 
given  me  to  see  what  lies  in  the  years  that  are  to  come,  and  I  tul 
thee  truly  this  despised  youth  shall  one  day  consort  with  kings  and 
princes.  That  time  shall  surely  come,  and  when  it  does,  ye  who 
now  despise  him  will  be  proud  so  ye  but  touch  his  garment's  hem. 

Ig.  How  will  he  win  such  honor? 

Fut.  He  will  rule  over  a  new  world,  of  whose  existence  now 
you  do  not  even  dream. 

Sup.  Pooh,  pooh,  good  sir!  That's  but  a  jest,  and  an  irreverent 
one,  methinks.     Worlds  are  not  made  at  the  command  of  mortals. 

Fut.  Your  words  are  true  ones,  friend,  but  yet  methinks  I  said 
not  that  he  would  create  a  new  world.  He  will  but  reign  o'er  one 
that's  now  unknown.  [Shading  eyes  with  left  hand  and  pointing  to 
the  west  with  right  one.  ]  Behold  him  now !  A  sturdy,  valiant  man, 
sailing  across  the  unknown  ocean,  beset  by  perils  that  might  well 
make  the  bravest  quail.  Yet,  spite  of  all,  he  gains  the  goal  he 
seeks,  and  of  him  'twill  one  day  be  said:  "To  Castile  and  Leon, 
Columbus  gave  a  new  world;"  so  flout  not  now  at  his  learning. 
It  will  one  day  stand  him  in  good  stead,  and  remember  that — 

"Great  deeds  are  natural  to  great  men. 
As  mean  things  are  to  small  ones, 
By  his  work  we  know  the  master, 
Let  us  not  perplex  him." 

Scene  III. — Audience-room  in  the  palace.  A  chair  upon  a  platform  or 
dais,  with  some  heavy  drapery  thrown  over  it,  may  form  the  throne. 
Courtiers  and  citizens  grouped  about  the  room,  waiting  for  an  audience 
with  the  Queen.  Columbus  stands  apart  from  the  others,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  looking  thoughtfully  down  at  the  floor.  He 
wears  Genoese  costume  described  in  Scene  II.,  with  the  addition  of 
a  loose  cloak  and  velvet  cap  with  a  feather. 

1st  Citizen  [pointing  to  Columbus].  What  manner  of  man  is 
that,  who  seems  as  in  a  dream?  He  looks  straight  at  thee,  yet 
sees  thee  not. 


38  WERNER'S   READINGS 

2d  Citizen.  That  is  Christopher  Columbus,  the  mad  Genoese 
sailor,  who  seeks  an  audience  of  our  good  Queen  Isabella. 

,1st  Cit.  Mad,  say  you?  Then,  wherefore  does  he  seek  the 
q  een? 

2d  Cit.  He  has  some  wild  scheme  in  his  head  about  a  world 
h>  yond  the  ocean,  and  he  wants  the  Queen  to  furnish  money,  ships 
and  men  to  sail  to  this  new  world. 

1st  Cit.  Thou  mayst  well  call  him  mad.  A  world  beyond  the 
sea,  forsooth!  Why,  the  very  babes  in  their  cradles  know  that  be- 
yond the  cape  the  waters  of  the  sea  are  boiling  hot,  and  none  but 
salamanders  can  live  there. 

2d  Cit.  This  man  doth  say  such  tales  are  false. 

1st  Cit.  How  should  he  know  more  than  the  wise  men  and 
skilful  sailors  who  have  sailed  the  sea  before  him?  And  if  the 
earth,  as  some  folk  hath  it,  be  like  unto  a  ball,  and  men  could 
reach  the  antipodes,  how  would  it  profit  us?  Men  are  not  flies 
that  they  may  walk  head  downward.  What  says  the  Queen  to  this 
madman's  project? 

2d  Cit.  It  is  whispered  that  she  is  not  averse  to  it.  But  the 
Moorish  war  hath  drained  her  coffers,  and  there  is  no  money  for 
the  enterprise.  Moreover,  our  most  gracious  lord,  the  Archbishop 
of  Granada,  hath  declared  the  terms  this  man  would  make  doth 
degrade  the  dignity  of  the  crown,  and  should  he  fail — as  belike  he 
will — the  world  would  laugh  at  Spain's  credulity. 

1st  Cit.  What  saith  Columbus  to  this? 

2d  Cit.  He  refuseth  the  more  moderate  terms  they  offer  him. 
Naught  but  the  titles  and  privileges  of  admiral  and  viceroy  o'er 
the  countries  he  shall  discover  will  content  him,  and  but  three 
days  since  he  did  abandon  all  and  set  out  for  Cordova. 

1st  Cit.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  he  is  here  to-day  seeking  an 
audience  of  the  Queen? 

2d  Cit.  When  it  was  known  that  he  was  gone,  his  friends 
gained  audience  of  the  Queen  and  did  entreat  her  with  such  fair 
words  that,  ere  he  had  left  the  city  two  leagues  behind,  a  mounted 
messenger  was  sent  in  haste  to  bid  him  return.     And  now  'tis  said 


AND   RECITATIONS.  39 

t  the  Queen  will  no  more  heed  the  archbishop,  but  will  grant  the 
madman's  demands. 

1st  Cit.  And  the  money?  If  her  coffers  be  empty  where  will 
she  get  that? 

2d  Cit.  I  know  not,  but  rumor  hath  it  that  she  will  pledge  her 
jewels.  [March  heard  on  a  piano  outside.]  But  hist!  a  sound  of 
music!     Is't  the  Queen?     [Goes  to  window.] 

1st  Cit.  Ay,  she  comes  with  her  attendants. 

2d  Cit.  That's  right  merry  music. 

1st  Cit.  They  may  well  make  merry  music  since  the  heathen 
Moors  at  last  are  driven  from  their  fastnesses.  Boabdil  hath  himself 
^surrendered  the  keys  of  his  capitol,  and  the  flags  of  Castile  and 
:Aragon  float  o'er  the  domes  of  the  Alhambra.  But  see!  The 
Queen  appears! 

[Enter  Queen,  attendants,  and  musicians.  Tlie  Queen  should 
wear  a  long  flowing  robe  trimmed  with  ermine,  and  two  pages  should 
carry  her  train.  The  skirt  is  open  in  front,  displaying  an  under- 
dress  of  another  color.  A  chemisette  ivith  slashed  sleeves,  and  a  velvet 
sleeveless  jacket  laced  with  gold.  The  attendants'1  dresses  are  made 
in  the  same  manner,  but  of  different  material.  All  ivear  veils,  and 
on  the  Queen's  head  is  a  crown.  She  seats  herself  on  the  throne. 
Attendants  range  themselves  about  her.  She  beckons  to  Columbus, 
who  kneels  before  throne.] 

Queen  [extending  hand  to  Columbus,  who  rises  and  bends  over 
it\.  We  are  pleased  to  see,  Columbus,  that  thou  hast  heeded  our 
summons  and  returned  from  Cordova.  Tell  us  once  more  of  this 
scheme  of  thine,  which  makes  us  such  fair  promises.  Why  dost 
thou  think  there  may  be  other  lands,  of  which  we  know  not? 

Columbus.  Most  gracious  lady,  it  is  now  commonly  believed  that 
tthis  earth  of  ours  in  shape  is  like  a  ball,  and  methinks  if  this  be  so, 
then,  to  balance  the  known  earth,  there  should  be  unknown  land 
upon  the  other  side. 

Queen.  All  this  is  mere  conjecture. 

Col.  And  yet,  0  gracious  Queen,  learned  men  will  tell  thee 
that  it  hath  a  foundation  in  reason.     But  not  alone  on  this  do  I 


40  WERNER'S   READINGS 

build  my  hopes,  for  even  the  Lord  God,  Most  High,  hath  declared 
that  ,( there  is  a  place  hid  from  the  eyes  of  all  the  living." 

Queen.  And  dost  thou  think  He  will  tell  thee  where  to  find 
that  unknown  land? 

Col.  Of  a  truth,  I  do.  He  says:  "  Behold  the  days  shall  come 
when  there  shall  rise  up  a  kingdom  upon  the  earth;"  and  hath 
He  not  already  sent  the  holy  prophet  Isaiah  to  me  in  dreams,  to 
point  me  to  the  west,  and  bid  me  sail  there  if  I  would  find  another 
kingdom?     Hast  thou  not  also  read  the  story  of  Atlantis? 

Queen.  That's  but  an  old  man's  idle  tale,  writ  to  tickle  the  ears 
of  fools. 

Col.  But,  gracious  lady,  what  think'st  thou  of  Seneca,  who  says: 
"  Thetis  will  reveal  to  you  a  great  new  land,  and  Thule  will  no 
more  be  the  end  of  the  world"? 

Queen.  All  madness. 

Col.  Mayhap  it  is,  but  yet,  methinks,  "  if  it  be  madness  then 
there's  method  in  it."  0  noble  Queen!  Let  me  once  more  en- 
treat thee  to  hesitate  no  longer,  while  a  world  beyond  the  sea  is 
waiting  now  for  thee  to  send  to  thousands  yet  unsaved  our  blessed 
religion  to  guide  them  to  the  cross.  Let  but  these  glorious  tidings 
go  to  them,  reflecting  glory  on  the  nation  and  giving  to  thee  empire 
and  lasting  dominion.      [Kneels  and  clasps  hands  imploringly.] 

Queen  [thoughtfully].  Thou  mayst  be  right,  Columbus,  and  to 
show  that  I  believe  thee,  here  are  my  jewels.  [  Offers  casket  to  Co- 
lumbus.]    Take  them  and  pay  the  expenses  of  thy  outfit. 

Luis  de  St.  Angel  [taking  jewels  and  handing  them  back  to 
the  Queen].  There  is  small  need  of  these,  0  gracious  Queen.  Take 
back  thy  jewels.  So  thou  dost  smile  on  the  enterprise,  I  will  fur- 
nish money  for  the  expedition. 

Queen  [taking  back  casket].  Right  gladly  do  I  accept  thy  of- 
fer; but  if  there  be  need  of  them,  the  jewels  shall  be  ready.  None 
shall  say  that  Isabella  thought  more  of  these  glittering  baubles 
than  of  immortal  souls.  And  now,  good  Columbus,  thou  mayst  at 
once  set  about  thy  preparations,  and  may  thv  voyage  prove  a  happy 
and  prosperous  one, 


AND    RECITATIONS.  41 

Col.  Ah,  most  noble  Queen,  my  heart  is  too  full  for  many  Words; 
but  I  dare  predict  that  for  this  day's  work  thou  shalt  achieve  more 
renown  than  hath  ever  been  obtained  by  sovereign  the  most  valor- 
ous and  fortunate. 

Scene  IV. — Cabin  of  the  Santa  Maria.     A  small  room,  hung  with  maps. 
A  globe  on  the  table.     Columbus  seated  in  a  chair  beside  the  table. 

Col.  Can  it  be  that  after  eighteen  long  years  of  poverty,  neglect, 
and  ridicule,  my  perseverance  is  to  be  rewarded  with  success? 
That  at  last  I  am  sailing  toward  the  unknown  land  that  hath  been 
the  goal  of  all  my  dreams  and  aspirations  since  childhood? 
[Shakes  head.]  And  yet — and  yet  my  mind  misgives  me.  'Tis 
but  for  adventure  and  the  love  of  gain  the  men  have  been  induced  to 
join  this  expedition,  and  now  that  land  hath  faded  from  our  sight 
they  grow  faint-hearted.  Twice  hath  the  Pinta  been  disabled,  and 
I  fear  'twas  through  the  contrivance  of  the  owners  of  the  vessel, 
who  like  not  the  thoughts  of  this  expedition.  The  smoke  and 
flames  from  Teneriffe,  the  variableness  of  the  needle  of  the  compass, 
and  e'en  this  wind  that  bloweth  ever  westward,  all  fill  their  doubt- 
ing hearts  with  terror  and  dismay.  Matheos,  too,  my  own  lieu- 
tenant, doth  much  to  hinder  and  to  stir  up  mutiny  against  me. 
But  come!  I'll  think  no  more  of  these  things.  My  trust  is  in  a 
higher  power,  and  He  who  sent  me  on  this  voyage,  who  holds  us  all 
within  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  will  surely  have  me  in  His  keeping. 
And  now  to  sleep,  for  the  night  wanes,  and  the  morrow  with  its 
cares  will  be  here  all  too  soon. 

[Leans  hack  in  chair  and  falls  asleep.  Soft  music  without.  En- 
ter two  Spirits  with  silver  wings,  and  wearing  white  robes.  Tliey 
sing  softly  to  the  tune  in  kindergarten  song,  "  Sleep,  Baby,  Sleep."] 

"  Sleep,  mortal,  sleep ! 
Thy  Father  vigils  will  keep. 
Thy  Father  in  heaven  thy  face  can  see, 
And  gently  His  blessing  falls  on  thee. 
Sleep,  mortal,  sleep !" 

1st  Spirit  [bending"  over  Columbus]  .  He  sleeps. 


42  WERNER'S   READINGS 

2d  Spirit.  And  he  hath  need  of  sleep.  Gcd's  envois  are  not 
wont  to  find  life's  field  a  flowery  mead. 

1st  Spirit.  Too  true,  alas!  Too  oft  they  meet  rebuffs  ami 
cruelty. 

2d  Spirit.  And  he.,  the  greatest,  wisest  of  them  all,  divinely 
sent,  must  bear  and  suffer  much,  if  he  would  gain  his  end. 

[Columbus  moves  uneasily, ] 

1st  Spirit.   See,  he  stirs! 

2d  Spirit.  He  does  but  dream. 

1st  Spirit.   You  will  waken  him ! 

2d  Spirit.    Nay;    Til    change    the    current    of    his    dreams. 
[Touches  Columbus  and  holds  before  him  a  crown  of  laurel.']     Dost, 
see  this  laurel  wreath? 

Col.   [with  eyes  closed  and  still  asleep].     I  see  it  well. 

2d  Spirit.  'Tis  woven  for  him  who'd  bear  a  deathless  name. 
"Wouldst  wear  it? 

Col.   [still  asleep],   I  would. 

2d  Spirit.  Yet  know  that  he  who  wears  this  wreath  of  fame 
must  faintly  toil  up  life's  steep  heights,  while  thorns  shall  pierce 
his  bleeding  feet.     Art  ready  for  this? 

Col.  I  am  ready. 

2d  Spirit.  Canst  thou  endure  the  ingratitude  and  treachery 
of  kings? 

Col.  I  can  endure  all  things  through  Him  who  strengthened 
me. 

2d  Spirit.  Wouldst  thou  succeed?  Then  know.  Before  the 
laurel  wreath  can  touch  thy  brow,  a  prison  waits  for  thee;  and 
though  thou  givest  to  kings  a  world,  to  thee  will  scarce  be  given  a 
tomb.     Art  ready  for  this? 

Col.  I  am  ready.  So  that  I  find  the  world  of  which  I've 
dreamed  for  years,  and  wear  the  deathless  laurel,  I'll  endure  and 
suffer  all. 

2d  Spirit  [places  crown  upon  Columbus's  head;  soft  music]. 
Then  receive  the  crown,  won  through  suffering  and  tears;  a  crown 
fhat  brighter  grows  with  every  passing  year,  till,  in  the  ages  yet  to 


AND   RECITATIONS.  43 

:ome,  the  name  of  him  who  dared  the  perils  of  an  unknown  sea  to 
hid  another  world — thy  name,  0  Columbus,  shall  be  writ  in  lines 
if  light  upon  the  hearts  of  men.      [Spirits  pass  out.] 

Icene  V. — Sailors  on  board  the  Santa  Maria.     A  small  room,  with  coils 
of  rope  on  the  floor ,  one  or  two  hammocks  may  hang  from  the  walls. 

Pedro.   'Tis  now  full  twenty  days  since  we  had  sight  of  land. 

Kodriguez.  Ay,  Pedro,  and  my  heart  grows  faint  within  me. 
I't  well  to  follow  this  mad  Admiral  to  what  may  be  but  certain 
leath? 

Garcia.  What  thinkest  thou  of  this  wind  that  wafts  us  ever 
westward? 

Ped.   Dost  think  it  never  blows  toward  the  east? 

Rod.  It  seemeth  not.  For  twenty  days  it  hath  blown  ever  west, 
tnd  much  I  fear  'tis  sent  by  Satan,  and  bloweth  where  he  lists.  If 
his  be  so,  we'll  ne'er  again  behold  the  coast  of  Spain. 

Ped.  Didst  note  the  needle  of  the  compass?  Now  it  no  longer 
lointeth  to  the  star  that's  set  to  guide  men  on  the  pathless  deep. 

Rod.  Ay,  marry,  that  I  did.  But  there's  naught  to  fear  from 
ihat,  so  says  the  Admiral.     He  hath  explained  it  all. 

Gar.  He's  a  brave  one  to  explain.  He  maketh  darkness  seem 
,s  light. 

Ped.  I  care  naught  for  his  smooth  words.  He's  an  ambitious 
aadman,  who,  to  make  himself  notorious,  will  fling  our  lives 
,way. 

Rod.  He  careth  naught  for  all  our  sufferings  and  the  dangers 
ihat  beset  us. 

Gar.   But  he  shares  them  all. 

Ped.  What  matters  that?  He  is  content  to  sacrifice  his  own  life 
nd  that  of  others,  so  he  but  gain  distinction. 

Rod.  Already  are  we  sailing  where  ship  hath  never  sailed  before, 
nd  if  we  continue  in  this  mad  expedition  we  become  the  authors 
f  our  own  destruction.  [Enter  Matheos.]  Welcome,  good 
latheos.  How  much  farther,  thinkest  thou,  are  we  to  go  in  search 
f  imaginary  lands? 


44  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Matheos.  I  may  not  read  the  riddle  thou  propoundest.  Tl 
Admiral  would  have  us  go  until  our  water  and  provisions  all  a 
gone,  and  then  with  naught  to  eat  or  drink  'tis  too  late  to  retun 

Rod.   Well — then  we'll  go  no  farther. 

Math,  [shaking  head  doubtfully].  That's  well  said,  Eodrigue 
couldst  thou  but  keep  thy  word,  but  the  Admiral  will  never  tui 
back  until  he  finds  the  land.  Why,  'twas  but  yestere'en  he  saitl 
"  A  gracious  sovereign  sent  me  to  seek  India,  and  I  go  not  back  ti 
her  will  be  accomplished." 

Ped.  But  he  must  turn  back.  Knows  he  not  our  lives  depeu 
on  it? 

Math.  What  matters  that  to  him?  To  him  we  are  but  as  tl 
drops  that  make  the  ocean.  So  there  be  left  enough  to  bear  h 
shi]),  the  sun  may  drink  the  rest,  'tis  naught  to  him.  He'll  n( 
turn  back. 

Eod.  Then  if  he  refuse 

Gar.   What  then? 

Rod.  The  sea  will  tell  no  tales. 

Gar.  [anxiously].  Nay,  nay,  Rodriguez,  thou  dost  not  mean  i 
harm  the  Admiral? 

Rod.  Harm  him?  Not  I.  But,  while  contemplating  the  star 
he  may  fall  overboard.  Such  things  have  been  before.  Should  h 
do  so,  we  may  return  to  Spain. 

Math.  We'll  give  him  yet  another  day  to  find  this  phantoi 
land;  then  if  it  does  not  appear,  this  "  star-gazer  "  shall  change  h 
course  for  Spain,  or — the  ship  sails  back  without  him. 

Scene  VI. — Deck  of  the  Santa  Maria.  The  stage  should  be  made  t 
represent  the  deck  of  a  ship  as  nearly  as  possible.  Columbus  stanc 
at  one  side  apparently  looking  off  across  the  sea. 

Col.  For  three  days  now  the  signs  of  land  have  grown  apace 
Birds  sing  upon  our  decks  as  in  their  native  forests,  and  'twas  bn 
yesterday  a  branch  of  thorn  thick  with  red  berries  floated  by.  Tc 
day  within  the  waters  we  found  a  quaintly  carved  staff.  The  me 
no  longer  murmur  and  complain,  but  each  is  eager  for  first  sight  c 


AND   RECITATIONS.  45 

land.  To  him  who  sees  it  first  a  yearly  pension  and  a  velvet  doublet 
is  the  reward.  [A  shout  from  the  Sailors.  Matheos  approaches.] 
What  Avouldst  thou,  good  Matheos?     What  mean  those  shouts  of 

joy? 

Math.  My  Lord  Admiral,  beside  the  ship  but  now  we  did  espy 
a  goodly  branch  drifted  from  that  unknown  land  toward  which  we 
hasten,  and,  hidden  'mong  its  leaves,  a  nest  with  four  white 
speckled  eggs.  On  these  the  mother  bird  doth  sit  as  calmly  as 
within  her  own  green  wood. 

Col.  That  shows  that  land  is  near.  To-morrow's  sun,  methinks, 
will  show  us  where  it  lies.  [Sailors  gather  about  Columbus  mak- 
ing gestures.  ] 

Col.  What  means  this  wild  commotion?  What  would  ye  now? 
Why  are  ye  here? 

Sailors  [throwing  themselves  at  his  feet].  Your  pardon,  0  Lord 
Admiral,  for  wicked  thoughts  and  bad,  seditious  words.  AVe  see 
that  thou  art  right.     Our  wisdom  is  no  match  for  thine. 

Col.  Thou  hast  my  pardon,  friends.  We  all  do  err,  and  he  who 
repents  should  ever  be  forgiven.  Methinks,  indeed,  the  land  is 
near;  and  so  each  one  should  return  to  duty.  [Sailors  go  to  (lifer- 
ent parts  of  declc.  ]  "  Nothing  succeeds  like  success."  But  yesterday 
these  men  could  scarce  refrain  their  hands  from  me.  My  life  was 
hardly  worth  the  purchase.  To-day,  as  prospects  brighten,  they 
would  fawn  on  me,  in  hope  of  some  reward.  But  [starting  forward- 
and  shading  eyes  with  hands]  what  is  that?  [Beckons  to  sailor.] 
Rodriguez,  hasten  thither.     Dost  thou  see  aught  in  the  distance? 

Rod.  Ay,  my  Lord  Admiral,  methinks  I  see  a  light.  All  rush 
to  the  spot.  ] 

1st  Sailor.  I  see  it,  too.     There,  'tis  gone! 

2d  Sailor.  Nay,  there  it  comes  again! 

All  [excitedly].     The  land  is  near! 

Col.  Unless  our  fancy  doth  deceive  us,  methinks  it  is.  If  so, 
then  God  be  praised.  Our  trials  now  are  ended,  the  long-sought 
goal  is  won  at  last.  Let  the  watch  be  set.  No  sleep  for  us  to-night. 
The  morrow's  light,  God  grant,  may  show  us  land. 


46  WERNER'S   READINGS 

[Columbus  paces  slowly  bach  and  forth.  TJie  Sailors  fall  on  their 
knees  and  chant,  "  Glory  be  to  God  in  Heaven  and  upon  Earth." 
As  they  finish  a  sound  of  guns  is  heard  outside.'] 

Sailors.    What  is  that? 

Col.  'Tis  the  Pinta's  gun!  Her  captain's  seen  the  land  and 
doth  announce  it  to  us. 

[All  rush  to  side  of  vessel,  cry  big  "Land!  land  I  land!"  Sound 
of  music  outside,  and  voices  singing,  "  Columbia,  the  Gem  of  the 
Ocean."] 


AND   RECITATIONS.  47 


Period  II.  —  SETTLEMENTS. 
1609— 1681. 


THE  COLONIZATION   OF  AMERICA. 


WILLIAM   H.    PRESCOTT. 


IT  is  not  easy  at  this  time  to  comprehend  the  impulse  given  to 
Europe  by  the  discovery  of  America.  It  was  not  the  gradual 
acquisition  of  some  border  territory,  a  province  or  a  kingdom,  that 
had  been  gained,  but  a  new  world  that  was  now  thrown  open  to  the 
European.  The  races  of  animals,  the  mineral  treasures,  the  vege- 
table forms,  and  the  varied  aspects  of  nature,  man  in  the  different 
phases  of  civilization,  filled  the  mind  with  entirely  new  sets  of  ideas, 
that  changed  the  habitual  current  of  thought  and  stimulated  it  to 
indefinite  conjecture.  The  eagerness  to  explore  the  wonderful 
eecrets  of  the  new  hemisphere  became  so  active  that  the  princi- 
pal cities  of  Spain  were,  in  a  manner,  depopulated,  as  emigrants 
thronged  one  after  another  to  take  their  chance  upon  the  deep. 
It  was  a  world  of  romance  that  was  thrown  open ;  for,  whatever 
might  be  the  luck  of  the  adventurer,  his  reports  on  his  return  were 
tinged  with  a  coloring  of  romance  that  stimulated  still  higher  the 
sensitive  fancies  of  his  countrymen,  and  nourished  the  chimerical 
sentiments  of  an  age  of  chivalry.  They  listened  with  attentive  ears 
to  tales  of  Amazons,  which  seemed  to  realize  the  classic  legends  of 
antiquity;  to  stories  of  Patagonian  giants;  to  flaming  pictures  of 
an  El  Dorado  (Golden  Land)  where  the  sands  sparkled  with  gems, 
and  golden  pebbles  as  large  as  birds'  eggs  were  dragged  in  nets 
out  of  the  rivers.  In  this  realm  of  enchantment  all  the  accessories 
served  to  maintain  the  illusion.     The  simple  natives,  with  their  de- 


48  WERNER'S    READINGS 

fenceless  bodies  arid  rude  weapons,  were  no  match  for  the  European 
warrior,  armed  to  the  teeth  in  mail.  The  odds  were  as  great  as 
those  found  in  any  legend  of  chivalry,  where  the  lance  of  the  good 
knight  overturned  hundreds  at  a  touch.  The  perils  that  lay  in  the 
discoverer's  path,  and  the  sufferings  he  had  to  sustain,  were  scarcely 
inferior  to  those  that  beset  the  knight-errant.  Hunger  and  thirst 
and  fatigue,  the  deadly  effluvia  of  the  morass,  with  its  swarms  of 
venomous  insects,  the  cold  of  the  mountain  snows,  and  the  scorch- 
ing sun  of  the  tropics — these  were  the  lot  of  every  cavalier  who 
came  to  seek  his  fortunes  in  the  New  World.  It  was  the  reality  of 
romance.  The  life  of  the  Spanish  adventurer  was  one  chapter 
more,  and  not  the  least  remarkable,  in  the  chronicles  of  knight- 
errantry. 

The  character  of  the  warrior  took  somewhat  of  the  exaggerated 
coloring  shed  over  his  exploits.  Proud  and  vain-glorious,  swelled 
with  lofty  anticipations  of  his  destiny  and  an  invincible  confidence 
in  his  own  resources,  no  danger  could  appall  and  no  toil  could  tire 
him.  The  greater  the  danger,  indeed,  the  higher  the  charm;  for 
his  soul  revelled  in  excitement,  and  the  enterprise  without  peril 
wanted  that  spur  of  romance  which  was  necessary  to  rouse  his 
energies  into  action.  Yet  in  the  motives  of  action  meaner  influ- 
ences were  strangely  mingled  with  the  loftier,  the  temporal  with  the 
spiritual.  Gold  was  the  incentive  and  the  recompense,  and  in  the 
pursuit  of  it  his  inflexible  nature  rarely  hesitated  as  to  the  means. 
His  courage  was  sullied  with  cruelty — the  cruelty  that  flowed 
equally,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  from  his  avarice  and  his  religion; 
religion  as  it  was  understood  in  that  age — the  religion  of  the  Cru- 
sader. It  was  the  convenient  cloak  for  a  multitude  of  sins  which 
covered  them  even  from  himself.  The  Castilian,  too  proud  for  hypoc- 
risy, committed  more  cruelties  in  the  name  of  religion  than  were 
ever  practiced  by  the  pagan  idolater  or  the  fanatical  Moslem.  The 
burning  of  the  infidel  was  a  sacrifice  acceptable  to  heaven,  and 
the  conversion  of  those  who  survived  amply  atoned  for  the  foulest 
offences.  It  is  a  melancholy  and  mortifying  consideration  that 
the  most  uncompromising  spirit  of  intolerance — the  spirit  of  the 


AND   RECITATIONS.  49 

Inquisitor  at  home  and  of  the  Crusader  abroad — should  have 
emanated  from  a  religion  which  preached  "  peace  upon  earth,  and 
good- will  toward  man!  " 

What  a  contrast  did  these  children  of  Southern  Europe  present  to 
the  Anglo-Saxon  races  who  scattered  themselves  along  the  great 
northern  division  of  the  Western  Hemisphere!  For  the  principle 
of  action  with  these  latter  was  not  avarice,  nor  the  more  specious 
pretext  of  proselytism,  but  independence — independence  religious 
and  political.  To  secure  this,  they  were  content  to  earn  a  bare 
subsistence  by  a  life  of  frugality  and  toil.  They  asked  nothing  from 
the  soil  but  the  reasonable  returns  of  their  own  labor.  No  golden 
visions  threw  a  deceitful  halo  around  their  path,  and  beckoned  them 
onward  through  seas  of  blood  to  the  subversion  of  an  unoffending 
dynasty.  They  were  content  with  the  slow  but  steady  progress  of 
the  social  polity.  They  patiently  endured  the  privations  of  the 
wilderness,  watering  the  tree  of  liberty  with  their  tears  and  with 
the  sweat  of  their  brows,  till  it  took  deep  root  in  the  land,  and 
sent  up  its  branches  high  toward  the  heavens;  while  the  communi- 
ties of  the  neighboring  continent,  shooting  up  into  the  sudden 
splendors  of  a  tropical  vegetation,  exhibited,  even  in  their  prime, 
the  sure  symptoms  of  decay. 

It  would  seem  to  have  been  especially  ordered  by  Providence  that 
the  discovery  of  the  two  great  divisions  of  the  American  hemi- 
sphere should  fall  to  the  two  races  best  fitted  to  conquer  and  col- 
onize them.  Thus  the  northern  section  was  consigned  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  whose  orderly,  industrious  habits  found  an 
ample  field  for  development  under  its  colder  skies  and  on  its  more 
rugged  soil;  while  the  southern  portion,  with  its  rich  tropical 
products  and  treasures  of  mineral  wealth,  held  out  the  most  attrac- 
tive bait  to  invite  the  enterprise  of  the  Spaniard.  How  different 
might  have  been  the  result,  if  the  bark  of  Columbus  had  taken  a 
more  northerly  direction,  as  he  at  one  time  meditated,  and  landed 
its  band  of  adventurers  on  the  shores  of  what  is  now  free  America! 
4 


50  WERNER'S  READINGS 

THE   MAYFLOWER. 


EKASTUS   W.    ELLSWORTH. 


DOWN  in  the  bleak  December  bay, 
The  ghostly  vessel  stands  away ; 
Her  spars  and  halyards  white  with  ice, 
Under  the  dark  December  skies. 
A  hundred  souls  in  company 
Have  left  the  vessel  pensively ; 
Have  touched  the  frosty  desert  there, 
And  touched  it  with  the  knees  of  prayer. 

And  now  the  day  begins  to  dip, 
The  night  begins  to  lower 

Over  the  bay,  and  over  the  ship 
Mayflower. 

Neither  the  desert  nor  the  sea 
Imposes  rites;  their   prayers  are  free. 
Danger  and  toil  the  wild  imposes, 
And  thorns  must  grow  before  the  roses. 
And  who  are  these?     And  what  distress 
The  savage-acred  wilderness 
On  mother,  maid,  and  child  may  bring, 
Beseems  them  for  a  fearful  thing! 

For  now  the  day  begins  to  dip, 
The  night  begins  to  lower 

Over  the  bay,  and  over  the  ship 
Mayflower. 

But  Carver  leads  (in  heart  and.healtl 
A  hero  of  the  commonwealth) 
The  axes  that  the  camp  requires 
To  build  the  lodge  and  heap  the  fires; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  51 

And  Standish  from  his  warlike  store 
Arrays  his  men  along  the  shore, 
Distributes  weapons  resonant, 
And  dons  his  harness  militant. 

For  now  the  day  begins  to  dip, 
The  night  begins  to  lower 

Over  the  bay,  and  over  the  ship 
Mayflower. 

And  Rose,  his  wife,  unlocks  a  chest, 
She  sees  a  Book  in  vellum  dressed ; 
And  drops  a  tear  and  kisses  the  tome, 
Thinking  of  England  and  of  home. 
Might  they,  the  Pilgrims,  there  and  then 
Ordained  to  do  the  work  of  men, 
Have  seen,  in  visions  of  the  air, 
While  pillowed  on  the  breast  of  prayer 

(When  now  the  day  began  to  dip, 
The  night  began  to  lower 

Over  the  bay,  and  over  the  ship 
Mayflower) , 

The  Canaan  of  their  wilderness — 
A  boundless  empire  of  success — 
And  seen  the  years  of  future  nights 
Jewelled  with  myriad  household  lights; 
And  seen  the  honey  fill  the  hive ; 
And  seen  a  thousand  ships  arrive; 
And  heard  the  wheels  of  travel  go — 
It  would  have  cheered  a  thought  of  woe 

When  now  the  day  began  to  dip, 
The  light  began  to  lower 

Over  the  bay,  and  over  the  ship 
Mayflower. 


52  WERNER'S   READINGS 

THE  PILGRIM   FATHERS. 


ISAAC    M'LELLAN,    JK. 


THE  pilgrim  fathers — where  are  they? 
The  waves  that  brought  them  o'er 
Still  roll  in  the  bay,  and  throw  their  spray, 

As  they  break  along  the  shore ; 
Still  roll  in  the  bay,  as  they  rolled  that  day 

When  the  Mayflower  moored  below, 
When  the  sea  around  was  black  with  storms, 
And  white  the  shore  with  snow. 

The  mists  that  wrapped  the  pilgrim's  sleep 

Still  brood  upon  the  tide; 
And  his  rocks  yet  keep  their  watch  by  the  deep, 

To  stay  its  waves  of  pride. 
But  the  snow-white  sail,  that  he  gave  to  the  gale 

When  the  heavens  looked  dark,  is  gone; 
As  an  angel's  wing,  through  an  opening  cloud, 

Is  seen  and  then  withdrawn. 

The  pilgrim  exile — sainted  name! 

The  hill,  whose  icy  brow 
Kejoiced  when  he  came  in  the  morning's  flame, 

In  the  morning's  flame  burns  now; 
And  the  moon's  cold  light,  as  it  lay  that  night 

On  the  hillside  and  the  sea, 
Still  lies  where  he  laid  his  houseless  head, 

But  the  pilgrim,  where  is  he? 

The  pilgrim  fathers  are  at  rest: 

When  summer's  throned  on  high, 
And  the  world's  warm  breast  is  in  verdure  dressed. 

Go  stand  on  the  hill  where  they  lie: 


AND   RECITATIONS.  53 


The  earliest  ray  of  the  golden  day 

On  that  hallowed  spot  is  cast, 
And  the  evening  sun,  as  he  leaves  the  world, 

Looks  kindly  on  that  spot  last. 

The  land  is  holy  where  they  fought, 

And  holy  where  they  fell; 
For  by  their  blood  that  land  was  bought, 

The  land  they  loved  so  well. 
Then  glory  to  that  valiant  band, 
The  honored  saviors  of  the  land ! 
Oh !  few  and  weak  their  numbers  were — 

A  handful  of  brave  men; 
But  to  their  God  they  gave  their  prayer, 

And  rushed  to  battle  then. 
The  God  of  battles  heard  their  cry, 
And  sent  to  them  the  victory. 

They  left  the  ploughshare  in  the  mould, 

Their  flocks  and  herds  without  a  fold, 

The  sickle  in  the  unshorn  grain, 

The  corn  half  garaered  on  the  plain, 

And  mustered,  in  their  simple  dress, 

For  wrongs  to  seek  a  stern  redress; 

To  right  those  wrongs,  come  weal,  come  woe, 

To  perish,  or  o'ercome  their  foe. 

And  where  are  ye,  0  fearless  men, 

And  where  are  ye  to-day? 
I  call :  the  hills  reply  again, 

That  ye  have  passed  away; 
That  on  old  Bunker's  lonely  height, 

In  Trenton,  and  in  Monmouth  ground, 
The  grass  grows  green,  the  harvest  bright, 

Above  each  soldier's  mound. 


54  WERNER'S   READINGS 

The  bugle's  wild  and  warlike  blast 

Shall  muster  them  no  more; 
An  army  now  might  thunder  past, 

And  they  not  heed  its  roar. 
The  starry  flag,  'neath  which  they  fought 

In  many  a  bloody  fray, 
From  their  old  graves  shall  rouse  them  not, 

For  they  have  passed  away. 


NEW  ENGLAND. 


JAMES    GATES  PERCIVAL. 


HAIL  to  the  land  whereon  we  tread, 
Our  fondest  boast: 
The  sepulchre  of  mighty  dead, 
The  truest  hearts  that  ever  bled, 
Who  sleep  on  glory's  brightest  bed, 

A  fearless  host. 
No  slave  is  here — our  unchained  feet 
Walk  freely  as  the  waves  that  beat 
Our  coast. 

Our  fathers  crossed  the  ocean's  wave 

To  seek  this  shore; 
They  left  behind  the  coward  slave 
To  welter  in  his  living  grave. 
With  hearts  unbent,  and  spirits  brave, 

They  sternly  bore 
Such  toils  as  meaner  souls  had  quelled; 
But  souls  like  these,  such  toils  impelled 

To  soar. 

Hail  to  the  morn,  when  first  they  stood 

On  Bunker's  height, 
And,  fearless,  stemmed  the  invading  flood, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  55 

And  wrote  our  dearest  rights  in  blood, 
And  mowed  in  ranks  the  hireling  brood, 

In  desperate  fight! 
Oh!  'twas  a  proud,  exalting  day, 
For  even  our  fallen  fortunes  lay 

In  light. 

There  is  no  other  land  like  thee, 

No  dearer  shore; 
Thou  art  the  shelter  of  the  free; 
The  home,  the  port  of  liberty 
Thou  hast  been,  and  shalt  ever  be, 

Till  time  is  o'er. 
Ere  I  forget  to  think  upon 
My  land,  shall  mother  curse  the  son 

She  bore. 

Thou  art  the  firm,  unshaken  rock, 

On  which  we  rest; 
And,  rising  from  thy  hardy  stock, 
Thy  sons  the  tyrant's  frown  shall  mock, 
And  slavery's  galling  chains  unlock, 

And  free  the  oppressed; 
All  who  the  wreath  of  freedom  twine 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  their  vine 

Are  blest. 

We  love  thy  rude  and  rocky  shore, 

And  here  we  stand. 
Let  foreign  navies  hasten  o'er, 
And  on  our  heads  their  fury  pour, 
And  peal  their  cannons'  loudest  roar, 

And  storm  our  land; 
They  still  shall  find  our  lives  are  given 
To  die  for  home,  and  leant  on  heaven 

Our  hand. 


56  WERNER'S   READINGS 

THE  FATHERS  OF  MEW  ENGLAND. 


CHARLES  SPRAGUE. 


BEHOLD!  they  come,  those  sainted  forms, 
Unshaken  through  the  strife  of  storms; 
Heaven's  winter  cloud  hangs  coldly  down, 
And  earth  puts  on  its  rudest  frown; 
But  colder,  ruder  was  the  hand 
That  drove  them  from  their  oAvn  fair  land, 
Their  own  fair  land — refinement's  chosen  seat, 
Art 's  trophied  dwelling,  learning's  green  retreat, 
By  valor  guarded,  and  by  victory  crowned, 
For  all  but  gentle  charity  renowned. 
With  streaming  eye,  yet  steadfast  heart, 
Even  from  that  land  they  dared  to  part, 

And  burst  each  tender  tie; 
Haunts  where  their  sunny  youth  was  passed, 
Homes  where  they  fondly  hoped  at  last 

In  peaceful  age  to  die. 
Friends,  kindred,  comforts,  all  they  spurned — 

Their  fathers'  hallowed  graves — 
And  to  a  world  of  darkness  turned, 

Beyond  a  world  of  waves. 

When  Israel's  race  from  bondage  fled, 
Signs  from  on  high  the  wanderers  led; 
But  here — heaven  hung  no  symbol  here, 
Their  steps  to  guide,  their  souls  to  cheer; 
They  saw,  through  sorrow's  lengthening  night, 
Naught  but  the  fagot's  guilty  light; 
The  cloud  they  gazed  at  was  the  smoke 
That  round  their  murdered  brethren  broke; 
Nor  power  above,  nor  power  below, 
Sustained  them  in  their  hour  of  woe; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  57 

A  fearful  path  they  trod, 
And  dared  a  fearful  doom, 

To  build  an  altar  to  their  God, 
And  find  a  quiet  tomb. 

Yet,  strong  in  weakness,  there  they  stand, 

On  yonder  ice-bound  rock, 
Stern  and  resolved,  that  faithful  band, 

To  meet  fate's  rudest  shock. 
Though  anguish  rends  the  father's  breast 
For  them,  his  dearest  and  his  best, 

With  him  the  waste  who  trod ; 
Though  tears  that  freeze  the  mother  sheds 
Upon  her  children's  houseless  heads, 

The  Christian  turns  to  God  I 

In  grateful  adoration  now, 

Upon  the  barren  sands  they  bow. 

What  tongue  of  joy  e'er  woke  such  prayer 

As  bursts  in  desolation  there? 

What  arm  of  strength  e'er  wrought  such  power 

As  waits  to  crown  that  feeble  hour? 

There  into  life  an  infant  empire  springs! 
There  falls  the  iron  from  the  soul; 
There  liberty's  young  accents  roll 

Up  to  the  King  of  kings! 
To  fair  creation's  farthest  bound 
That  thrilling  summons  yet  shall  sound; 
The  dreaming  nations  shall  awake, 
And  to  their  centre  earth's  old  kingdoms  shake. 
Pontiff  and  prince,   your  sway 
Must  crumble  from  that  day; 
Before  the  loftier  throne  of  heaven 
The  hand  is  raised,  the  pledge  is  given, 
One  monarch  to  obey,  one  creed  to  own, 
That  monarch,  God;  that  creed,  His  word  alone. 


58  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Spread  out  earth's  holiest  records  here, 
Of  days  and  deeds,  to  reverence  dear. 
A  zeal  like  this  what  pious  legends  tell? 

On  kingdoms  built 

In  blood  and  guilt, 
The  worshippers  of  vulgar  triumph  dwell; 
But  what  exploit  with  theirs  shall  page, 

Who  rose  to  bless  their  kind, 
"Who  left  their  nation  and  their  age 

Man's  spirit  to  unbind? 
Who  boundless  seas  passed  o'er, 

And  boldly  met,  in  every  path, 

Famine  and  frost  and  heathen  wrath, 
To  dedicate  a  shore 

Where  piety's  meek  train  might  breathe  their  vow, 
And  seek  their  Maker  with  an  unshamed  brow; 
Where  liberty's  glad  race  might  proudly  come, 
And  set  up  there  an  everlasting  home? 


THE  PILGRIM'S  VISION. 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


IN  the  hour  of  twilight  shadows  the  Puritan  looked  out ; 
He  thought  of  the  "  bloody  savages"  that  lurked  all  round  about. 
Of  Wituwamet's  pictured  knife  and  Pecksnot's  whooping  shout- 
For  the  baby's  limbs  were  feeble,  though  his  father's  arms  were  stout, 

His  home  was  a  freezing  cabin,  too  bare  for  the  hungry  rat, 
Its  roof  was  thatched  with  ragged  grass,  and  bald  enough  of  that. 
The  hole  that  served  for  casement  was  glazed  with  an  ancient  hat. 
And  the  ice  was  gently  thawing  from  the  log  whereon  he  sat. 

Along  the  dreary  landscape  his  eyes  went  to  and  fro, 

The  trees  all  clad  in  icicles,  the  streams  that  did  not  flow; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  59 

I  sudden  thought  flashed  o'er  him — a  dream  of  long  ago — 
[e  smote  his  leathern  jerkin  and  murmured,  "  Even  so! 

Come  hither,  God-be-glorified,  and  sit  upon  my  knee; 
ehold  the  dream  unfolding  whereof  I  spake  to  thee 
y  the  winter's  hearth  in  Leyden  and  on  the  stormy  sea; 
rue  is  the  dream's  beginning — so  may  its  ending  be! 

il  saw  in  the  naked  forest  our  scattered  remnant  cast, 
i  screen  of  shivering  branches  between  them  and  the  blast; 
'he  snow  was  falling  round  them,  the  dying  fell  as  fast, 
looked  to  see  them  perish,  when  lo !  the  vision  passed. 

.Again  mine  eyes  were  opened:     The  feeble  had  waxed  strong; 
I'he  babies  had  grown  to  sturdy  men,  the  remnant  was  a  throng; 
w  shadowed  lake  and  winding  stream  and  all  the  shores  along, 
I'he  howling  demons  quaked  to  hear  the  Christian's  godly  song. 

They  slept — the  village  fathers — by  river,  lake  and  shore, 
^hen,  far  adown  the  steep  of  time,  the  vision  rose  once  more. 
saw  along  the  winter  snow  a  spectral  column  pour, 
.nd  high  above  their  broken  ranks  a  tattered  flag  they  bore. 

Their  leader  rode  before  them,  of  bearing  calm  and  high, 
'he  light  of  heaven's  own  kindling  throned  in  his  awful  eye. 
'hese  were  a  nation's  champions  her  dread  appeal  to  try: 
ijod  for  the  right!'  I  faltered,  and  lo!  the  train  passed  by. 

-Once  more  the  strife  is  ended,  the  solemn  issue  tried, 
I'he  Lord  of  hosts,  His  mighty  arm  has  helped  our  Israel's  side, 
fray  stone  and  grassy  hillock  tell  where  our  martyrs  died, 
ut  peaceful  smiles  the  harvest  and  stainless  flows  the  tide. 

j  A  crash  as  when  some  swollen  cloud  cracks  o'er  the  tangled  trees, 
fith  side  to  side,  and  spar  to  spar,  whose   smoking  decks  are 

these? 
know  St.  George's  blood-red  cross,  thou  mistress  of  the  seas, 
ut  what  is  she  whose  streaming  bars  roll  out  before  the  breeze? 


60  WERNER'S   READINGS 

"  Ah !  well  her  iron  ribs  are  knit,  whose  thunders  strive  to  quell 
The  bellowing  throats,  the  blazing  lips,  that  pealed  the  Armada's 

knell ! 

The  mist  was  cleared,  a  wreath  of  stars  rose  o'er  the  crimsoned  swell, 
And  wavering  from  its  haughty  peak  the  cross  of  England  fell. 

"  0  trembling  faith,  though  dark  the  morn,  a  heavenly  torch  is 

thine ; 
While  feebler  races  melt  away,  and  paler  orbs  decline, 
Still  shall  the  fiery  pillar's  ray  along  the  pathway  shine, 
To  light  the  chosen  tribe  that  sought  this  western  Palestine. 

"  I  see  the  living  tide  roll  on,  it  crowns  with  naming  towers 

The  icy  capes  of  Labrador,  the  Spaniard's  land  of  flowers. 

It  streams  beyond  the  splintered  ridge  that  parts  the  northern 

showers, 
From  eastern  rock  to  sunset  wave  the  continent  is  ours." 

He  ceased — the  grim  old  Puritan — then  softly  bent  to  cheer 
The  pilgrim  child,  whose  wasting  face  was  meekly  turned  to  hear 
And  drew  his  toil-worn  sleeve  across  to  brush  the  manly  tear 
From  cheeks  that  never  changed  in  woe,  and  never  blanched  in  fear. 

The  weary  pilgrim  slumbers,  his  resting-place  unknown; 

His  hands  were  crossed,  his  lids  were  closed,  the  dust  was  o'er  hin 

strown ; 
The  drifting  soil,  the  mouldering  leaf,  along  the  sod  were  blown; 
His  mound  has  melted  into  earth,  his  memory  lives  alone. 

So  let  it  live  unfading,  the  memory  of  the  dead, 

Long  as  the  pale  anemone  springs  where  their  tears  were  shed, 

Or,  raining  in  the  summer's  wind  in  flakes  of  burning  red, 

The  wild  rose  sprinkles  with  its  leaves  the  turf  where  once  they  bled. 

Yea,  when  the  frowning  bulwarks  that  guard  this  holy  strand, 
Have  sunk  beneath  the  trampling  surge  in  beds  of  sparkling  sand, 
While  in  the  waste  of  ocean  one  hoary  rock  shall  stand, 
Be  this  its  latest  legend — Here  was  the  Pilgrim's  land! 


AND   RECITATIONS.  61 

IN  MEMORY  OF  THE  PILGRIMS. 


GBENVILLE    MELLEN. 


WAKE  your  harp's  music!  louder!  higher! 
And  pour  your  strains  along; 
And  smite  again  each  quivering  wire, 

In  all  the  pride  of  song! 
Shout  like  those  godlike  men  of  old, 

Who,  daring  storm  and  foe, 
On  this  blest  soil  their  anthem  rolled, 
Two  hundred  years  ago! 

From  native  shores  by  tempests  driven, 

They  sought  a  purer  sky, 
And  found  beneath  a  milder  heaven 

The  home  of  liberty. 
An  altar  rose,  and  prayers ;  a  ray 

Broke  on  their  night  of  woe — 
The  harbinger  of  Freedom's  day, 

Two  hundred  years  ago! 

They  clung  around  that  symbol,  too, 

Their  refuge  and  their  all; 
And  swore,  while  skies  and  waves  were  blue, 

That  altar  should  not  fall. 
They  stood  upon  the  red  man's  sod, 

'Neath  heaven's  unpillared  bow, 
With  home,  a  country,  and  a  God, 

Two  hundred  years  ago ! 

Oh,  'twas  a  hard,  unyielding  fate, 

That  drove  them  to  the  seas; 
And  Persecution  strove  with  Hate 

To  darken  her  decrees; 


62  WERNERS   READINGS 

But  safe  above  each  coral  grave, 

Each  blooming  ship  did  go; 
A  God  was  on  the  western  wave, 

Two  hundred  years  ago ! 

They  knelt  them  on  the  desert  sand, 

By  waters  cold  and  rude; 
Alone  upon  the  dreary  strand, 

Of  ocean  solitude ! 
They  looked  upon  the  high  blue  air, 

And  felt  their  spirits  glow; 
Resolved  to  live  or  perish  there, 

Two  hundred  years  ago! 

The  warrior's  red  right  arm  was  bared, 

His  eye  flashed  deep  and  wild ; 
Was  there  a  foreign  footstep  dared 

To  seek  his  home  and  child? 
The  dark  chiefs  yelled  alarm,  and  swore 

The  white  man's  blood  should  flow, 
And  his  hewn  bones  should  bleach  their  shores, 

Two  hundred  years  ago! 

But  lo!  the  warrior's  eye  grew  dim, 

His  arm  was  left  alone ; 
The  still,  black  wilds  which  sheltered  him 

No  longer  were  his  own ! 
Time  fled,  and  on  the  hallowed  ground 

His  highest  pine  lies  low, 
And  cities  swell  where  forests  frowned 

Two  hundred  years  ago ! 

Oh !  stay  not  to  recount  the  tale, 

'Twas  bloody,  and  'tis  past ; 
The  firmest  cheek  might  well  grow  pale, 

To  hear  it  to  the  last. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  63 

The  God  of  heaven,  who  prospers  us, 

Could  bid  a  nation  grow, 
And  shield  us  from  the  red  man's  curse, 

Two  hundred  years  ago ! 

Come,  then,  great  shades  of  glorious  men, 

From  your  still  glorious  grave ; 
Look  on  your  own  proud  land  again, 

0  bravest  of  the  brave! 
We  call  you  from  each  mouldering  tomb, 

And  each  blue  wave  below, 
To  bless  the  world  ye  snatched  from  doom, 

Two  hundred  years  ago ! 

Then  to  your  harps ;  yet  louder !  higher ! 

And  pour  your  strains  along; 
And  smite  again  each  quivering  wire, 

In  all  the  pride  of  song! 
Shout  for  those  godlike  men  of  old, 

Who,  daring  storm  and  foe, 
On  this  blest  soil  their  anthem  rolled, 

Two  hundred  years  ago! 


64  WERNER'S   READINGS 


Period  III.— FRENCH   AND  INDIAN  WAR' 

1690 — 1763. 


NORTH  AMERICAN   INDIANS. 


CHAELES  SPRAGUE. 


NOT  many  generations  ago,  where  you  now  sit  encircled  wi 
all  that  exalts  and  embellishes  civilized  life,  the  rai 
thistle  nodded  in  the  wind  and  the  wild  fox  dug  his  hole  unscare 
Here  lived  and  loved  another  race  of  beings.  Beneath  the  san 
sun  that  rolls  over  your  head  the  Indian  hunter  pursued  the  pan 
ing  deer;  gazing  on  the  same  moon  that  smiles  for  you,  the  Indii 
lover  wooed  his  dusky  mate.  Here  the  wigwam  blaze  beamed  < 
the  tender  and  helpless,  and  the  council-fire  glared  on  the  wise  ai 
daring.  Now,  they  dipped  their  noble  limbs  in  your  sedgy  lake 
and  now  they  paddled  the  light  canoe  along  your  rocky  short 
Here  they  warred;  the  echoing  whoop,  the  bloody  grapple,  tl 
defying  death-song,  all  were  here;  and  when  the  tiger-strife  w 
over,  here  curled  the  smoke  of  peace. 

Here,  too,  they  worshipped;  and  from  many  a  dark  bosom  we 
up  a  fervent  prayer  to  the  Great  Spirit.  He  had  not  written  II 
laws  for  them  on  tables  of  stone,  but  He  had  traced  them  on  tl 
tables  of  their  hearts.  The  poor  -child  of  nature  knew  not  the  G( 
of  revelation,  but  the  God  of  the  universe  he  acknowledged  in  ever 
thing  around.  He  beheld  Him  in  the  star  that  sank  in  beauty  b 
hind  his  lonely  dwelling;  in  the  sacred  orb  that  flamed  on  hi 
from  His  mid-day  throne ;  in  the  flower  that  snapped  in  the  mor 
ing  breeze;  in  the  lofty  pine  that  defied  a  thousand  whirlwinds: 
the  timid  warbler  that  never  left  its  native  grove;  in  the  fearlc 


AND   RECITATIONS.  65 

eagle,  whose  untired  pinion  was  wet  in  clouds;  in  the  worm  that 
crawled  at  his  feet;  and  in  his  own  matchless  form,  glowing  with 
a  spark  of  that  light,  to  whose  mysterious  source  he  bent  in  humble 
though  blind  adoration. 

And  all  this  has  passed  away.  Across  the  ocean  came  a  pilgrim 
bark,  bearing  the  seeds  of  life  and  death.  The  former  were  sown 
for  you;  the  latter  sprang  up  in  the  path  of  the  simple  native. 
Two  hundred  years  have  changed  the  character  of  a  great  con- 
tinent, and  blotted  forever  from  its  face  a  whole  peculiar  people. 
Art  has  usurped  the  bowers  of  nature,  and  the  anointed  children  of 
education  have  been  too  powerful  for  the  tribes  of  the  ignorant. 
Here  and  there  a  stricken  few  remain;  but  how  unlike  their  bold, 
untamable  progenitors.  The  Indian  of  falcon  glance  and  lion 
bearing,  the  theme  of  the  touching  ballad,  the  hero  of  the  pathetic 
tale,  is  gone,  and  his  degraded  offspring  crawls  upon  the  soil  where 
he  walked  in  majesty,  to  remind  us  how  miserable  is  man  when 
the  foot  of  the  conqueror  is  on  his  neck. 

As  a  race,  they  have  withered  from  the  land.  Their  arrows  are 
broken,  their  springs  are  dried  up,  their  cabins  are  in  the  dust. 
Their  council-fire  has  long  since  gone  out  on  the  shore,  and  their 
Avar-cry  is  fast  fading  to  the  untrodden  west.  Slowly  and  sadly 
they  climb  the  distant  mountains,  and  read  their  doom  in  the 
setting  sun.  They  are  shrinking  before  the  mighty  tide  which  is 
pressing  them  away;  they  must  soon'hear  the  roar  of  the  last  wave 
which  will  settle  over  them  forever.  Ages  hence,  the  inquisitive 
white  man,  as  he  stands  by  some  growing  city,  will  ponder  on  the 
structure  of  their  disturbed  remains,  and  wonder  to  what  manner 
of  persons  they  belonged.  They  will  live  only  in  the  songs  and 
chronicles  of  their  exterminators.  Let  these  be  faithful  to  their 
rude  virtues  as  men,  and  pay  due  tribute  to  their  unhappy  fate 
as  a  people. 


C6  WERNER'S   READINGS 

THE   INDIANS. 


JOSEPH    STORY. 


THERE  is  in  the  fate  of  these  unfortunate  beings  much  to 
awaken  our  sympathy,  and  much  to  disturb  the  sobriety  of 
our  judgment ;  much  which  may  be  urged  to  excuse  their  own  atroc- 
ities; much  in  their  characters  which  betrays  us  into  an  invol- 
untary admiration.  What  can  be  more  melancholy  than  their  his- 
tory? By  law  of  their  nature,  they  seemed  destined  to  a  slow  but 
sure  extinction.  Everywhere  at  the  approach  of  the  white  man 
they  fade  away.  We  hear  the  rustling  of  their  footsteps,  like  that 
of  the  withered  leaves  of  autumn,  and  they  are  gone  forever.  They 
pass  mournfully  by  us,  and  they  return  no  more.  Two  centuries 
ago  the  smoke  of  their  wigwams  and  the  fires  of  their  councils  rose 
in  every  valley  from  Hudson's  Bay  to  the  farthest  Florida,  from  the 
ocean  to  the  Mississippi  and  the  lakes.  The  shouts  of  victory  and 
the  war-dance  rang  through  the  mountains  and  the  glades.  The 
thick  arrows  and  the  deadly  tomahawk  whistled  through  the  for- 
ests; and  the  hunter's  trace  and  dark  encampment  startled  the 
wild  beasts  in  their  lairs.  The  warriors  stood  forth  in  their  glory. 
The  young  listened  to  the  songs  of  other  days.  The  mothers  played 
with  their  infants, "and  gazed  on  the  scene  with  warm  hopes  of  the 
future.  The  aged  sat  down;  but  they  wept  not.  They  should 
soon  be  at  rest  in  fairer  regions,  where  the  Great  Spirit  dwelt  in  a 
home  prepared  for  the  brave,  beyond  the  western  skies.  Braver 
men  never  lived  ;  truer  men  never  drew  the  bow.  They  had  cour- 
age and  fortitude,  and  sagacity  and  perseverance  beyond  most  of 
the  human  race.  They  shrank  from  no  dangers,  and  they  feared 
no  hardships.  If  they  had  the  vices  of  savage  life  they  had  the 
virtues  also.  They  were  true  to  their  country,  their  friends,  and 
their  homes.  If  they  forgave  not  injury,  neither  did  they  forget 
kindness.  If  their  vengeance  was  terrible,  their  fidelity  and  gen- 
erosity were  unconquerable  also.  Their  love,  like  their  hate,  stopped 
not  on  this  side  of  the  grave. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  6? 

But  where  are  they?  Where  are  the  villagers,  and  warriors,  and 
'youth;  the  sachems  and  the  tribes;  the  hunters  and  their  families? 
'  They  have  perished.  They  are  consumed.  The  wasting  pestilence 
1  has  not  alone  done  the  mighty  work.  No,  nor  famine,  nor  war. 
There  has  been  a  mightier  power,  a  moral  canker,  which  has  eaten 
into  their  heart-cores — a  plague,  which  the  touch  of  the  white  man 
communicated — a  poison  which  betrayed  them  into  a  lingering  ruin. 
The  winds  of  the  Atlantic  fan  not  a  single  region  which  they  may 
now  call  their  own.  Already  the  last  feeble  remnants  of  the  race 
are  preparing  for  their  journey  beyond  the  Mississippi.  I  see 
them  leave  their  miserable  homes — the  aged,  the  helpless,  the 
women,  and  the  warriors — "few  and  faint,  yet  fearless  still. "  The 
i  ashes  are  cold  on  their  native  hearths.  The  smoke  no  longer  curls 
!  round  their  lowly  cabins.  They  move  on  with  a  slow,  unsteady 
sstep.  The  white  man  is  upon  their  heels,  for  terror  or  despatch; 
but  they  heed  him  not.  They  turn  to  take  a  last  look  at  their  de- 
serted villages.  They  cast  a  last  glance  upon  the  graves  of  their 
fathers.  They  shed  no  tears;  they  utter  no  cries;  they  heave  no 
groans.  There  is  something  in  their  hearts  which  passes  speech. 
There  is  something  in  their  looks,  not  of  vengeance  or  submission, 
but  of  hard  necessity,  which  stifles  both;  which  chokes  all  utter- 
ance ;  which  has  no  aim  nor  method.  It  is  courage  absorbed  in 
despair.  They  linger  but  for  a  moment.  Their  look  is  onward. 
They  have  passed  the  fatal  stream.  It  shall  never  be  repassed  by 
them — no,  never.  Yet  there  lies  not  between  us  and  them  an  im- 
passable gulf.  They  know  and  feel  that  there  is  for  them  still  one 
remove  farther,  not  distant,  nor  unseen.  It  is  to  the  general 
burial-ground  of  their  race. 

Eeason  as  we  may,  it  is  impossible  not  to  read  in  such  a  fate  much 
that  we  know  not  how  to  interpret ;  much  of  provocation  to  cruel 
deeds  and  deep  resentments ;  much  of  apology  for  wrong  and  perfidy ; 
much  of  pity  mingling  with  indignation;  much  of  doubt  and 
misgiving  as  to  the  past;  much  of  painful  recollections;  much  of 
dark  forebodings. 


68  WERNER'S   READINGS 

INDIAN   NAMES. 


LYDIA  H.   SIGOUKNEY. 


YE  say  they  all  have  passed  away — that  noble  race  and  brave, 
That  their  light  canoes  have  vanished  from  off  the  crested 
wave ; 
That,  'mid  the  forests  where  they  roamed,  there  rings  no  hunter's 

shout, 
But  their  name  is  on  your  waters — ye  may  not  wash  it  out. 

'Tis  where  Ontario's  billow  like  ocean's  surge  is  curled, 
Where  strong  Niagara's  thunders  wake  the  echo  of  the  world; 
Where  red  Missouri  bringeth  rich  tribute  from  the  west, 
And  Rappahannock  sweetly  sleeps  on  green  Virginia's  breast. 

Ye  say  their  cone-like  cabins,  that  clustered  o'er  the  vale, 
Have  fled  away  like  withered  leaves,  before  the  autumn's  gale; 
But  their  memory  liveth  on  your  hills,  their  baptism  on  your  shore, 
Your  everlasting  rivers  speak  their  dialect  of  yore. 
Old  Massachusetts  wears  it  upon  her  lordly  crown, 
And  broad  Ohio  bears  it  amid  his  young  renown; 
Connecticut  hath  wreathed  it  where  her  quiet  foliage  waves, 
And  bold  Kentucky  breathes  it  hoarse  through  all  her  ancient  caves. 

Wachusett  hides  its  lingering  voice  within  his  rocky  heart, 
And  Alleghany  graves  its  tone  throughout  his  lofty  chart; 
Monadnock  on  his  forehead  hoar  doth  seal  the  sacred  trust; 
Your  mountains  build  their  monument,though  ye  destroy  their  dust. 

Ye  call  those  red-browed  brethren  the  insects  of  an  hour, 
Crushed  like  the  noteless  worm  amid  the  regions  of  their  power; 
Ye  drive  them  from  their  fathers'  lands,  ye  break  of  faith  the  seal, 
But  can  ye  from  the  court  of  heaven  exclude  their  last  appeal? 

Ye  see  their  unresisting  tribes,  with  toilsome  steps  and  slow, 
On  through  the  trackless  desert  pass,  a  caravan  of  woe. 
Think  ye  the  Eternal  Ear  is  deaf?  His  sleepless  vision  dim? 
Think  ye  the  soul's  blood  may  not  cry  from  that  far  land  to  Him? 


7 

AND   RECITATIONS.  69 

DEATH   OF   KING   PHILIP. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


1  7TTH  a  scanty  band  of  followers,  who  still  remained  true  to  his 
/  V  desperate  fortunes,  the  unhappy  Philip  wandered  back  to 
ount  Hope,  the  ancient  dwelling  of  his  fathers.  Here  he  lurked 
>out  like  a  spectre,  among  scenes  of  former  power  and  prosperity, 
)W  bereft  of  home,  of  family,  and  friends.  There  needs  no  better 
cture  of  his  destitute  and  piteous  situation  than  that  furnished 
t  the  homely  pen  of  the  chronicler,  who  is  unwarily  enlisting  the 
elings  of  the  reader  in  favor  of  the  hapless  warrior  whom  he 
wiles.  "  Philip,"  he  says,  "  like  a  savage  wild  beast,  having  been 
unted  by  the  English  forces  through  the  woods,  above  a  hundred 
iiles  backward  and  forward,  at  last  was  driven  to  his  own  den 
pon  Mount  Hope,  where  he  retired,  with  a  few  of  his  best  friends, 
lito  a  swamp  which  proved  but  a  prison  to  keep  him  fast  till  the 
essengers  of  death  came  by  divine  permission  to  execute  ven- 
3ance  upon  him." 

Even  in  this  last  refuge  of  desperation  and  despair,  a  sullen 
randeur  gathers  round  his  memory.  We  picture  him  to  ourselves, 
:ated  among  his  careworn  followers,  brooding  in  silence  over  his 
lasted  fortunes,  and  acquiring  a  savage  sublimity  from  the  wild- 
ess  and  dreariness  of  his  lurking-place.  Defeated,  but  not  dis- 
mayed, crushed  to  the  earth  but  not  humiliated,  he  seemed  to  grow 
lore  haughty  beneath  disaster,  and  to  experience  a  fierce  satisfac- 
on  in  draining  the  last  dregs  of  bitterness. 

Little  minds  are  tamed  and  subdued  by  misfortune,  but  great 
kinds  rise  above  it.  The  very  idea  of  submission  awakened  the 
rry  of  Philip,  and  he  smote  to  death  one  of  his  followers  who 
roposed  an  expedient  of  peace.  The  brother  of  the  victim  made 
is  escape,  and  in  revenge  betrayed  the  retreat  of  his  chieftain. 
.  body  of  white  men  and  Indians  were  immediately  dispatched  to 
ie  swamp  where  Philip  lay  crouched,  glaring  with  fury  and  des- 
pair.    Before  he  was  aware  of  their  approach,  they  had  begun  to 


70  WERNER'S   READINGS 

surround  him.  In  a  little  while  he  saw  live  of  his  trustiest  followers 
laid  dead  at  his  feet;  all  resistance  was  vain;  he  rushed  forth  from 
his  covert,  and  made  a  headlong  attempt  to  escape,  but  was  shot 
through  the  heart  by  a  renegade  Indian  of  his  own  nation. 

Such  is  the  scanty  story  of  the  brave  but  unfortunate  King  Philip ; 
persecuted  while  living,  slandered  and  dishonored  when  dead.  If, 
however,  we  consider  even  the  prejudiced  anecdotes  furnished  us 
by  his  enemies,  we  may  perceive  in  them  traces  of  amiable  and 
lofty  character  sufficient  to  awaken  sympathy  for  his  fate,  and  re- 
spect for  his  memory.  We  find  that,  amidst  all  the  harassing 
cares  and  ferocious  passions  of  constant  warfare,  he  was  alive  to 
the  softer  feelings  of  connubial  love  and  paternal  tenderness,  and 
to  the  generous  sentiment  of  friendship.  The  captivity  of  his 
"beloved  wife  and  only  son"  is  mentioned  with  exultation  as  causing 
him  poignant  misery;  the  death  of  any  near  friend  is  triumphantly 
recorded  as  a  new  blow  on  his  sensibilities;  but  the  treachery  and 
desertion  of  many  of  his  followers,  in  whose  affections  he  had  con- 
fided, is  said  to  have  desolated  his  heart,  and  to  have  bereaved  him 
of  all  further  comfort. 

He  was  a  patriot  attached  to  his  native  soil,  a  prince  true  to  his 
subjects  and  indignant  of  their  wrongs,  a  soldier  daring  in  battle, 
firm  in  adversity,  patient  of  fatigue,  of  hunger,  of  every  variety  of 
bodily  suffering,  and  ready  to  perish  in  the  cause  he  had  espoused. 
Proud  of  heart,  and  with  an  untamable  love  of  natural  liberty,  he 
preferred  to  enjoy  it  among  the  beasts  of  the  forest,  or  in  the  dismal 
and  famished  recesses  of  swamps  and  morasses,  rather  than  bow 
his  haughty  spirit  to  submission,  and  live  dependent  and  despised 
in  the  ease  and  luxury  of  the  settlements.  With  heroic  qualities 
and  bold  achievements  that  would  have  graced  a  civilized  warrior, 
and  have  rendered  him  the  theme  of  the  poet  and  the  historian, 
he  lived  a  wanderer  and  a  fugitive  in  his  native  land,  and  went 
down,  like  a  lonely  bark  foundering  amid  darkness  and  tempest, 
without  a  pitying  eye  to  weep  his  fall,  or  a  friendly  hand  to  re- 
cord his  struggle. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  71 

THE  INDIAN  HUNTER. 


HENRY   W.    LONGFELLOW. 


WHEN  the  summer  harvest  was  gathered  in, 
And  the  sheaf  of  the  gleaner  grew  white  and  thin, 
And  the  ploughshare  was  in  its  furrow  left, 
"Where  the  stubble  land  had  been  lately  cleft, 
An  Indian  hunter  with  unstrung  bow, 
Looked  down  where  the  valley  lay  stretched  below. 
He  was  a  stranger  there,  and  all  that  day 
Had  been  out  on  the  hills— a  perilous  way; 
But  the  foot  of  the  deer  was  far  and  fleet, 
And  the  wolf  kept  aloof  from  the  hunter's  feet; 
And  bitter  feelings  passed  o'er  him  then, 
As  he  stood  by  the  populous  haunts  of  men. 

The  winds  of  autumn  came  over  the  woods, 
As  the  sun  stole  out  from  their  solitudes; 
The  moss  was  white  on  the  maple's  trunk, 
And  dead  from  its  arms  the  pale  vine  shrunk; 
And  ripened  the  mellow  fruit  hung,  and  red, 
Where  the  trees  withered  leaves  around  it  shed. 
The  foot  of  the  reaper  moved  slow  on  the  lawn, 
And  the  sickle  cut  down  the  yellow  corn; 
The  mower  sung  loud  by  the  meadow  side, 
"When  the  mists  of  evening  were  spreading  wide; 
And  the  voice  of  the  herdsman  came  up  the  lea, 
And  the  dance  went  round  by  the  greenwood  tree. 

Then  the  hunter  turned  away  from  that  scene, 
Where  the  home  of  his  fathers  once  had  been, 
And  heard,  by  the  distant  and  measured  stroke, 
That  the  woodman  hewed  down  the  giant  oak; 
And  burning  thoughts  flashed  over  his  mind, 
Of  the  white  man's  faith  and  love  unkind- 


72  WERNER'S   READINGS 

The  moon  of  the  harvest  grew  high  and  bright, 
As  her  golden  horn  pierced  the  cloud  of  white; 
A  footstep  was  heard  in  the  rustling  brake, 
AVhere  the  beech  overshadowed  the  misty  lake, 
And  a  moaning  voice,  and  a  plunge  from  the  shore— 
And  the  hunter  was  seen  on  the  hills  no  more. 

When  years  had  passed  on,  by  that  still  lakeside 
The  fisher  looked  down  through  the  silver  tide, 
And  there,  on  the  smooth  yellow  .sand  displayed, 
A  skeleton  wasted  and  white  was  laid; 
And  'twas  seen,  as  the  waters  moved  deep  and  slow, 
That  the  hand  was  still  grasping  a  hunter's  bow. 


THE  CAPTURE   OF  TICONDEROGA. 


ETHAN"   ALLEN. 


EVER  since  I  arrived  at  the  state  of  manhood,  and  acquainted 
myself  with  the  general  history  of  mankind,  I  have  felt  a 
sincere  passion  for  liberty.  The  history  of  nations  doomed  to  per- 
petual slavery  in  consequence  of  yielding  up  to  tyrants  their 
natural-born  liberties,  I  read  with  a  sort  of  philosophical  horror; 
so  that  the  first  systematical  and  bloody  attempt,  at  Lexington,  to 
enslave  America,  thoroughly  electrified  my  mind,  and  fully  deter- 
mined me  to  take  part  with  my  country.  While  I  was  wishing 
for  an  opportunity  to  signalize  myself  in  its  behalf,  directions 
were  privately  sent  to  me  from  the  then  colony  (now  state)  of 
Connecticut,  to  raise  the  Green  Mountain  boys,  and,  if  possible, 
with  them  to  surprise  and  take  the  fortress  of  Ticonderoga.  This 
enterprise  I  cheerfully  undertook:  and  after  first  guarding  all  the 
several  passes  that  led  thither,  to  cut  off  all  intelligence  between  the 
garrison  and  the  country,  made  a  forced  march  from  Bennington, 
and  arrived  at  the  lake  opposite  to  Ticonderoga  on  the  evening  of 
the  ninth  day  of  May,  1775,  with  two  hundred  and  thirty  valiant 


AND   RECITATIONS.  73 

Green  Mountain  boys.  It  was  with,  the  utmost  difficulty  that  I 
procured  boats  to  cross  the  lake.  However,  I  landed  eighty-three 
men  near  the  garrison,  and  sent  boats  back  for  the  rear-guard, 
commanded  by  Col.  Seth  Warner.  But  the  day  began  to  dawn, 
.and  I  found  myself  under  the  necessity  to  attack  the  fort  before 
the  rear  could  cross  the  lake;  and,  as  it  was  viewed  hazardous,  I 
harangued  the  officers  and  soldiers  in  the  manner  following: 

"  Friends  and  fellow-soldiers : — You  have,  for  a  number  of  years 
past,  been  a  scourge  and  terror  to  arbitrary  power.  Your  valor  has 
been  famed  abroad  and  acknowledged,  as  it  appears  by  the  advice 
and  orders  to  me  from  the  General  Assembly  of  Connecticut  to 
surprise  and  take  the  garrison  now  before  us.  I  now  propose  to 
advance  before  you  and,  in  person,  conduct  you  through  the 
i wicket-gate ;  for  we  must  this  morning  either  quit  our  pretensions 
Ito  valor,  or  possess  ourselves  of  this  fortress  in  a  few  minutes;  and, 
i inasmuch  as  it  is  a  desperate  attempt,  which  none  but  the  bravest 
i  men  would  dare  undertake,  I  do  not  urge  it  on  any  contrary  to  his 
swill.     You  that  will  undertake  voluntarily,  poise  your  firelocks." 

The  men  being,  at  this  time,  drawn  up  in  three  ranks,  each  poised 
his  firelock.  I  ordered  them  to  face  to  the  right,  and,  at  the  head 
of  the  centre  file,  marched  them  immediately  to  the  wicket-gate 
aforesaid,  where  I  found  a  sentry  posted,  who  instantly  snapped  his 
? fusee  at  me.  I  ran  immediately  toward  him,  and  he  retreated 
through  the  covered  way  into  the  parade  within  the  garrison,  gave 
a  halloo,  and  ran  under  a  bomb-proof.  My  party,  who  followed 
me  into  the  fort,  I  formed  on  the  parade  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
face  the  two  barracks,  which  faced  each  other. 

The  garrison  being  asleep,  except  the  sentries,  we  gave  three 
huzzas  which  greatly  surprised  them.  One  of  the  sentries  made  a 
pass  at  one  of  my  officers  with  a  charged  bayonet,  and  slightly 
wounded  him.  My  first  thought  was  to  kill  him  with  my  sword; 
but,  in  an  instant,  I  altered  the  design  and  fury  of  my  blow  to  a 
slight  cut  on  the  side  of  his  head,  upon  which  he  dropped  his  gun 
and  asked  quarter,  which  I  readily  granted  him,  and  demanded  of 
him  the  place  where  the  commanding  officer  slept.     He  showed  me 


74  WERNERS   READINGS 

a  pair  of  stairs  in  the  front  part  of  the  garrison,  which  led  up  to  a 
second  story  in  said  barrack,  to  which  I  immediately  repaired,  and 
ordered  the  commander,  Capt.  De  la  Place,  to  come  forth  instantly, 
or  I  would  sacrifice  the  whole  garrison;  at  which  the  Captain 
came  immediately  to  the  door  with  his  breeches  in  his  hand. 

When  I  ordered  him  to  deliver  me  the  fort  instantly,  he  asked 
me  by  what  authority  I  demanded  it.  I  answered  him,  "In  the 
name  of  the  great  Jehovah,  and  the  Continental  Congress."  The 
authority  of  the  Congress  being  very  little  known  at  that  time,  he 
began  to  speak  again;  but  I  interrupted  him,  and,  with  my  drawn 
sword  over  his  head,  again  demanded  an  immediate  surrender  of 
the  garrison,  with  which  he  then  complied,  and  ordered  his  men  to 
be  forthwith  paraded  without  arms,  as  he  had  given  up  the  garrison. 

In  the  mean  time,  some  of  my  officers  had  given  orders,  and,  in 
consequence  thereof,  sundry  of  the  barrack  doors  were  beat  down, 
and  about  one-third  of  the  garrison  imprisoned,  which  consisted  of 
the  said  commander,  a  Lieut.  Feltham,  a  conductor  of  artillery,  a 
gunner,  two  sergeants,  and  forty-four  rank  and  file ;  about  one  hun- 
dred pieces  of  cannon,  one  thirteen-inch  mortar,  and  a  number  of 
swivels. 

This  surprise  was  carried  into  execution  in  the  gray  of  the  morn- 
ing of  the  tenth  of  May,  1775.  The  sun  seemed  to  rise  that  morn- 
ing with  a  superior  lustre;  and  Ticonderoga  and  its  dependencies 
smiled  to  its  conquerors,  who  tossed  about  the  flowing  bowl,  and 
wished  success  to  Congress,  and  the  liberty  and  freedom  of 
America. 


THE  CAPTURE  OF  QUEBEC 


WILLIAM   WARBURTOK. 


THE  closing  scene  of  French  dominion  in  Canada  was  marked 
by  circumstances  of  deep  and  peculiar  interest.  The  pages 
of  romance  can  furnish  no  more  striking  episode  than  the  battle 
of  Quebec.     The  skill  and  daring  of  the  plan  which  brought  on 


AND   RECITATIONS.  75 

the  combat,  and  the  success  and  fortune  of  its  execution,  are  un- 
paralleled. A  broad,  open  plain,  offering  no  advantages  to  either 
party,  was  the  field  of  fight.  The  contending  armies  were  nearly 
:equal  in  military  strength,  if  not  in  numbers.  The  chiefs  of  both 
were  already  men  of  honorable  fame.  France  trusted  firmly  in  the 
wise  and  chivalrous  Montcalm.  England  trusted  hopefully  in 
the  young,  heroic  Wolfe. 

The  magnificent  stronghold  which  was  staked  upon  the  issue  of 
the  strife  stood  close  at  hand.  For  miles  and  miles  around,  the 
prospect  extended  over  as  fair  a  land  as  ever  rejoiced  the  sight  of 
man — mountain  and  valley,  forest  and  waters,  city  and  solitude, 
grouped  together  in  forms  of  almost  ideal  beauty.  Quebec  stands 
on  the  slope  of  a  lofty  eminence  on  the  left  bank  of  the  St.  Law- 
irence.  That  portion  of  the  heights  nearest  the  town  on  the  west 
iis  called  the  Plains  of  Abraham.  Wolfe  had  discovered  a  narrow 
ipath  winding  up  the  side  of  the  steep  precipice  from  the  river. 
IFor  miles  on  either  side  there  was  no  other  possible  access  to  the 
heights.  Up  the  narrow  path  Wolfe  decided  to  secretly  lead  the 
whole  army,  and  make  the  plains  his  battle-ground.  Great  prep- 
arations were  made  throughout  the  fleet  and  the  army  for  the 
decisive  movement,  but  the  plans  were  all  kept  secret. 

At  nine  o'clock  at  night,  on  the  13th  of  September,  1759,  the 
first  division  of  the  army,  1,000  strong,  silently  embarked  in  flat- 
bottomed  boats.  The  soldiers  were  in  high  spirits.  Wolfe  led  in 
person.  About  an  hour  before  daylight,  the  flotilla  dropped  down 
with  the  ebb-tide  in  the  friendly  shade  of  the  overhanging  cliffs. 
The  rowers  scarcely  stirred  the  waters  with  their  oars;  the  soldiers 
sat  motionless.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  save  by  the  }^oung  general. 
He,  as  a  midshipman  on  board  of  his  boat  afterward  related,  re- 
peated in  a  low  voice,  to  the  officers  by  his  side,  this  stanza  of 
Gray's  "Elegy  Written  in  a  Country  Churchyard:" 

"The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour — 
The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. " 


76  WERNER'S   READINGS 

As  he  concluded  the  beautiful  verses,  he  said,  "  Now,  gentlemen, 
I  would  rather  be  the  author  of  that  poem  than  to  take  Quebec!  " 

But  while  Wolfe  thus  gave  vent  to  the  intensity  of  his  feelings 
In  the  poet's  words,  his  eye  was  constantly  bent  upon  the  dark  out- 
line of  the  heights  under  which  he  was  hurrying.  At  length  he 
recognized  the  appointed  spot  and  leaped  ashore. 

Some  of  the  leading  boats,  conveying  the  light  company  of  the 
78th  Highlanders,  had,  in  the  mean  time,  been  carried  about  two 
hundred  yards  lower  down  by  the  strength  of  the  tide.  These 
Highlanders,  under  Captain  Macdonald,  were  the  first  to  land. 
Immediately  over  their  heads  hung  a  woody  precipice,  without 
path  or  track  upon  its  rocky  face.  On  the  summit,  a  French  sen- 
tinel marched  to  and  fro,  still  unconscious  of  their  presence. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation,  Macdonald  and  his  men  dashed  at 
the  height.  They  scrambled  up,  holding  on  by  rocks  and  branches 
of  trees,  guided  only  by  the  stars  that  shone  over  the  top  of  the 
cliff.  Half  of  the  ascent  was  already  won  when,  for  the  first  time, 
"  Qui  vive?"  broke  the  silence  of  the  night.  "La  France,"  an- 
swered the  Highland  captain,  with  ready  self-possession,  and  the 
sentry  shouldered  his  musket  and  pursued  his  round.  Montcalm 
commanded  the  attack  in  person.  Not  fifteen  minutes  had  elapsed 
since  he  had  first  moved  on  his  line  of  battle,  and  already  all  was 
lost.  But  the  gallant  Frenchman,  though  ruined,  was  not  dis- 
mayed. He  rode  through  the  broken  ranks,  cheered  them  with 
his  voice,  encouraged  them  by  his  dauntless  bearing,  and,  aided 
by  a  small  redoubU|  even  succeeded  in  once  again  presenting  a 
front  to  his  enemy. 

Wolfe  seized  the  opportunity  of  the  hesitation  in  the  hostile 
ranks,  and  ordered  the  whole  British  line  to  advance.  At  first 
they  moved  forward  with  majestic  regularity,  receiving  and 
paying  back  with  deadly  interest  the  volleys  of  the  French ;  but 
soon  the  ardor  of  the  soldiers  broke  through  the  restraints  of  dis- 
cipline— they  increased  their  pace  to  a  run,  rushing  over  the  dying 
and  the  dead,  and  sweeping  the  living  enemy  from  their  path. 

Wolfe  was  soon  wounded  in  the  body,  but  he  concealed  his  suf- 


AND   RECITATIONS.  77 

fering,  for  his  work  was  not  yet  accomplished.  Again  a  ball  from 
the  redoubt  struck  him  in  the  breast.  He  reeled  to  one  side,  but 
at  the  moment  it  was  not  generally  observed.  "  Support  me,"  said 
he  to  a  grenadier  officer  who  was  close  at  hand,  "  that  my  brave 
fellows  may  not  see  me  fall."  In  a  few  seconds,  however,  he  sank 
to  the  ground,  and  was  borne  a  little  to  the  rear. 

The  brief  struggle  fell  heavily  upon  the  British,  but  was  ruinous 
to  the  French.  They  wavered  under  the  carnage;  the  columns 
which  death  had  disordered  were  soon  broken  and  scattered. 
Montcalm,  with  a  courage  that  rose  above  the  wreck  of  hope,  gal- 
loped through  the  groups  of  his  stubborn  veterans  who  still  made 
head  against  the  enemy,  and  strove  to  show  a  front  of  battle.  His 
efforts  were  vain.  The  head  of  every  formation  was  swept  away 
before  that  terrible  musketry.  In  a  few  minutes  the  French  gave 
way  in  all  directions.  Just  then  their  gallant  general  fell,  with  a 
mortal  wound;  from  that  time  all  was  utter  rout. 

While  the  British  troops  were  carrying  all  before  them,  their 
young  general's  life  was  ebbing  fast  away.  From  time  to  time  he 
tried,  with  his  faint  hand,  to  clear  away  the  death-mist  that 
gathered  before  his  sight ;  but  the  efforts  seemed  vain,  for  pres- 
ently he  lay  back,  and  gave  no  signs  of  life  beyond  a  heavy 
breathing  and  an  occasional  groan. 

Meantime  the  French  had  given  way,  and  were  flying  in  all 
directions.  A  grenadier  officer,  seeing  this,  called  out  to  those 
around  him,  "  See!  they  run!  "  The  words  caught  the  ear  of  the 
dying  man.  He  raised  himself,  like  one  aroused  from  sleep,  and 
eagerly  asked,  "Who  runs?"  "The  enemy,  sir,"  answered  the 
officer;  "  they  give  way  everywhere." 

"Go,  one  of  you,  to  Colonel  Burton,"  said  Wolfe;  "tell  him  to 
march  Webbe's  regiment  with  all  speed  down  to  the  St.  Charles 
Eiver,  to  cut  off  the  retreat."  His  voice  grew  faint  as  he  spoke, 
and  he  turned  on  his  side  as  if  seeking  an  easier  position.  When 
he  had  given  this  last  order  his  eyes  closed  in  death.  Wolfe's 
body  was  embalmed,  and  borne  to  the  river  for  conveyance  to  Eng- 
land.    The  army  escorted  it  in  solemn  state  to  the  beach.     They 


78  WERNER'S   READINGS 

mourned  their  young  general's  death  as  sincerely  as  they  had  fol- 
lowed him  in  battle  bravely. 


THE   INDIAN   WARRIOR'S   LAST   SONG. 


J.   HOWARD   WERT. 


THE  wood  is  dyed  with  varied  hue 
Of  olive,  blent  with  azure  blue 
Of  crescent  sky,  that,  bending  low, 
Has  kissed  the  burnished  autumn's  glow; 
And  far  beyond,  the  dark  blue  top 
Of  Tuscarora's  mountains  prop 
The  wide-extended  sheet  of  sky, 
Where  snow-winged  cloudlets  swiftly  fly. 
The  falling  leaf  has  spread  adown 
Upon  the  earth,  in  red  and  brown, 
A  carpet  of  its  own  wild  wealth ; 
Thereon,  with  steps  of  springing  stealth, 
An  Indian  hunter  bounds  along, 
Unconscious  of  the  blackbird's  song; 
Its  melody  falls  cold  and  drear 
Upon  his  once  retentive  ear. 
His  memory  is  with  the  past, 
Before  the  pale-faced  warrior  cast 
A  cloud  of  gloom  upon  his  race — 
Had  seized  the  red  man's  hunting-place, 
And  cried :  "  These  acres  are  my  own, 
These  woods  belong  to  me  alone; 
Toward  the  west  now  turn  thy  face, 
Where  dwell  a  fierce  and  hostile  race." 

A  nameless  horror  racked  his  brain, 
A  struggle  with  heart-gnawing  pain: 


AND   RECITATIONS.  79 

"  Oh,  for  the  battle-cry  again, 

To  ring  throughout  this  fertile  plain! 

To  see  the  white  man's  wigwam  burn; 

To  see  his  face  still  whiter  turn 

As  rings  the  dreadful  shout  for  blood, 

From  mount  to  mount,  and  wood  to  wood ! 

As  shrieks  his  scalped  and  bleeding  squaw, 

And  turns  his  proud  and  fierce  huzza 

To  plaiutive  cries  of  frenzied  woe! 

To  see,  beneath  the  red  man's  blow, 

His  children's  life-blood  freely  flow! 

Ah,  that  would  pay  for  years  of  shame, 

Without  a  tribe,  without  a  name, 

Could  I  again  behold  him  die, 

Beneath  our  nation's  arching  sky! 

"But  ah,  my  warriors,  where  are  ye? 
Ye  sleep  beneath  the  greenwood  tree! 
The  grass  o'ergrows  each  silent  grave! 
Launched  on  the  rapid,  tideless  wave, 
You've  reached  the  happy  hunting-land, 
Where  we,  the  Spirit's  favored  band, 
Shall  bend  forevermore  the  bow, 
And  safely  conquer  every  foe ! 

"  Too  long  I  linger  here  below, 
I  come,  I  come,  ye  warrior  braves; 
I  die  upon  your  grass-grown  graves!  " 


80  WERNER'S   READINGS 


Period  IV. —REVOLUTIONARY   WAR 
DECLARATION  OF  INDEPENDENCE. 
1764— 1782. 


QUARREL  OF    SQUIRE   BULL    AND   HIS  SO> 

JONATHAN. 


JAMES    KIRKE   PAULDING. 


JOHN  BULL  was  a  choleric  old  fellow,  who  held  a  good  manor  u 
the  middle  of  a  great  mill-pond,  and  which,  by  reason  of  it 
being  qnite  surrounded  by  water,  was  generally  called  "  Bullocl 
Island."  Bull  was  an  ingenious  man,  an  exceedingly  good  black 
smith,  a  dexterous  cutler,  and  a  notable  Aveaver  besides.  He  als 
brewed  capital  porter,  ale,  and  small  beer,  and  was,  in  fact,  a  sor 
of  Jack-of -all- trades,  and  good  at  each. 

In  addition  to  these,  he  was  a  hearty  fellow,  a  jolly  companion 
and  passably  honest,  as  the  times  go.  But  what  tarnished  a] 
these  qualities  was  an  exceedingly  quarrelsome,  overbearing  dispo 
sition,  which  was  always  getting  him  into  some  scrape  or  other. 

The  truth  is,  he  never  heard  of  a  quarrel  going  on  among  hi 
neighbors  but  his  fingers  itched  to  take  a  part  in  it;    so  that  h 
was  hardly  ever  seen   without  a  broken   head,  a  black  eye,  or 
bloody  nose. 

Such  was  Squire  Bull,  as  he  was  commonly  called  by  the  countri 
people,  his  neighbors — one  of  those  odd,  testy,  grumbling,  boast 
ing  old  codgers,  that  never  get  credit  for  what  they  are  becaus 
they  are  always  pretending  to  be  what  they  are  not.  The  squir 
was  as  tight  a  hand  to  deal  with  indoors  as  out;  sometimes  treat 


AND   HEC1TATI0NS.  m  81 

ing  his  family  as  if  they  were  not  the  same  flesh  and  blood,  when 
they  happened  to  differ  with  him  in  certain  matters. 

One  day  he  got  into  a  dispute  with  his  youngest  son,  Jonathan, 
who  was  familiarly  called  Brother  Jonathan,  as  to  whether 
churches  ought  to  be  called  churches  or  meeting-houses,  and 
whether  steeples  were  not  an  abomination.  The  squire,  either 
having  the  worst  of  the  argument,  or  being  naturally  impatient  of 
contradiction,  I  can't  tell  which,  fell  into  a  great  passion,  and  de- 
clared he  would  physic  such  notions  out  of  the  boy's  noddle. 

So  he  went  to  some  of  his  doctors,  and  got  them  to  draw  up  a 
prescription,  made  up  of  thirty-nine  different  articles,  many  of 
them  bitter  enough  to  some  palates.  This  he  tried  to  make  Jona- 
than swallow,  and  finding  he  made  wry  faces  and  would  not  do  it, 
fell  upon  him  and  beat  him  soundly.  After  this,  he  made  the 
house  so  disagreeable  to  him,  that  Jonathan,  though  as  hard  as  a 
pine-knot  and  as  tough  as  leather,  could  bear  it  no  longer. 

Taking  his  gun  and  his  axe,  he  put  himself  into  a  boat  and  paddled 
over  the  mill-pond  to  some  new  lands  to  which  the  squire  pretended 
to  have  some  sort  of  claim.  Jonathan  intended  to  settle  the  lands, 
and  build  a  meeting-house  without  a  steeple,  as  soon  as  he  grew 
rich  enough.  When  he  got  over  he  found  that  the  land  was  quite 
in  a  state  of  nature,  covered  with  wood,  and  inhabited  only  by 
wild  beasts. 

But,  being  a  lad  of  spirit,  he  took  his  axe  on  one  shoulder  and 
his  gun  on  the  other,  marched  into  the  thickest  of  the  wood,  and, 
clearing  a  place,  built  a  log  hut.  Pursuing  his  labors  and  hand- 
ling his  axe  like  a  notable  woodman,  he  in  a  few  years  cleared  the 
land,  which  he  laid  out  into  thirteen  good  farms;  and  building 
himself  a  large  house,  which  he  partly  finished,  began  to  be  quite 
snug  and  comfortable. 

But  Squire  Bull,  who  was  getting  old  and  stingy,  and  besides  was 
in  great  want  of  money,  on  account  of  his  having  lately  been  made 
to  pay  heavy  damages  for  assaulting  his  neighbors  and  breaking  their 
heads — the  squire,  I  say,  finding  Jonathan  was  getting  well-to-do 
in  the  world,  began  to  be  very  much  troubled  about  his  welfare; 
6 


82  •  WERNER'S   READINGS 

so  he  demanded  that  Jonathan  should  pay  him  a  good  rent  for  the 
land  which  he  had  cleared  and  made  good  for  something. 

He  made  up  I  know  not  what  claim  against  him,  and  under 
different  pretences  managed  to  pocket  all  Jonathan's  honest  gains. 
In  fact,  the  poor  lad  had  not  a  shilling  left  for  holiday  occasions; 
and  had  it  not  been  for  the  filial  respect  he  felt  for  the  old  man, 
he  would  certainly  have  refused  to  submit  to  such  impositions. 
But  for  all  this,  in  a  little  time  Jonathan  grew  up  to  be  very  large 
of  his  age,  and  became  a  tall,  stout,  double-jointed,  broad-footed 
cub  of  a  fellow,  awkward  in  his  gait  and  simple  in  his  appearance, 
but  having  a  lively,  shrewd  look,  and  giving  the  promise  of  great 
strength  when  he  should  get  his  growth. 

He  was  rather  an  odd  looking  chap,  in  truth,  and  had  many 
queer  ways;  but  everybody  who  had  seen  John  Bull  saw  a  great 
likeness  between  them,  and  declared  he  was  John's  own  boy,  a  true 
chip  of  the  old  block.  Like  the  old  squire,  he  was  apt  to  be  blus- 
tering and  saucy ;  but,  in  the  main,  was  a  peaceable  sort  of  careless 
fellow  that  would  quarrel  with  nobody  if  you  only  let  him  alone. 
He  used  to  dress  in  homespun  trousers,  and  always  wore  a  linsey- 
woolsey  coat,  the  sleeves  of  which  were  so  short  that  his  hand  and 
wrist  came  out  beyond  them,  looking  like  a  shoulder  of  mutton ; 
all  of  which  was  in  consequence  of  his  growing  so  fast  that  he 
outgrew  his  clothes. 

While  Jonathan  was  coming  up  in  this  way  Bull  kept  on  pick- 
ing his  pockets  of  every  penny  put  into  them;  till  at  last  one  day, 
when  the  squire  was  even  more  than  usually  pressing  in  his  demands, 
which  he  accompanied  with  threats,  Jonathan  started  up  in  a 
passion,  and  threw  the  tea-kettle  at  the  old  man's  head. 

The  choleric  Bull  was  hereupon  exceedingly  enraged,  and,  after 
calling  the  poor  lad  an  undutiful,  ungrateful,  rebellious  rascal, 
seized  him  by  the  collar,  and  forthwith  a  furious  scuffle  ensued. 
This  lasted  a  long  time ;  for  the  squire,  though  in  years,  was  a  capital 
boxer.  At  last,  however,  Jonathan  got  him  under,  and  before  he 
would  let  him  up,  made  him  sign  a  paper  giving  up  all  claim  to  the 
farms,  and  acknowledging  the  fee-simple  to  be  in  Jonathan  forever. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  83 

THE  CHARTER  OAK. 


GEORGE    D.    PRENTICE. 


[Sir  Edmund  Andros,  who  had  been  for  some  time  governor  of  New 
York,  was  appointed  by  James  II.  governor  also  of  New  England.  He 
arrived  in  Boston,  1686,  and  summoned  the  colonies  to  surrender  their 
charters.  The  charter  of  Massachusetts  was  given  up,  but  that  of  Connecti- 
cut was  concealed  by  Captain  Wadsworth  in  the  hollow  of  an  oak  in 
Hartford.  This  tree  was  blown  down  in  a  storm  in  1856.  On  the  Rev- 
olution in  England  in  1688,  Andros  was  sent  back  to  England  for  trial.] 


TEEE  of  the  olden  time!     A  thousand  storms 
Have  hurried  through  thy  branches.     Centuries 
Have  set  their  signets  on  thy  trunk,  and  gone 
In  silence  o'er  thee  like  the  moonlight's  mists, 
That  move  at  evening  o'er  the  battlements 
Of  the  eternal  mountains !     And  yet  thou 
Shakest  thy  naked  banner  in  the  heavens 
As  proudly  still  as  when  great  Freedom  first 
Crowned  thee  with  deathless  glory. 

Monument 
Of  nations  perished !      Since  thy  form  first  sprung 
From  its  green  throne  of  forest,  many  a  deep 
And  burning  tide  of  human  tears  has  flowed 
Down  to  the  ocean  of  the  past,  until 
Its  every  wave  is  bitterness,  but  thou 
Art  reckless  still !     No  heart  has  ever  throbbed 
Beneath  thy  silent  breast,  and  though  thy  sighs 
Have  mingled  with  the  night-storm,  they  were  not 
The  requiem  of  the  nations  that  have  gone 
Down  to  the  dust  like  thy  own  withered  leaves 
Swept  by  the  autumn  tempest ! 

Ay,  bloom  on, 
Tree  of  the  cloud  and  sun !     Gird  on  thy  strength! 
Yet  there  will  come  a  time  when  thou  shalt  sleep 


84  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Upon  thy  own  hill-tomb.     The  marshalled  storms 

Shall  seek  but  find  thee  not,  and  the  proud  clime 

That  long  has  been  the  consecrated  home 

Of  liberty  and  thee  shall  lie  as  erst 

In  silent  desolation!     Not  a  sound 

Shall  rise  from  all  its  confines,  save  the  moan 

Of  passing  winds,  the  cloud's  deep  tone  of  fear, 

The  noise  of  stormy  waters,  and  the  wild 

And  fearful  murmuring  of  the  earthquake's  voice. 


THE  STAMP  ACT. 


WILLIAM   GRIMSHAW. 


[In  1765  was  passed  the  Stamp  Act,  laying  a  duty  on  all  paper  used  for 
instruments  of  writing,  and  declaring  writings  on  unstamped  materials 
null  and  void.  This  measure  was  vigorously  opposed  by  Patrick  Henry 
before  the  Assembly  of  Virginia.  The  Stamp  Act  was  repealed  in  March, 
1766,  but  a  new  tax  was  imposed  in  June,  1767.  Soldiers  were  quartered 
in  America,  and  quarrels  were  frequent  between  them  and  the  populace. 
On  March  5,  1770,  occurred  the  Boston  Massacre.] 


AT  the  time  of  that  disastrous  warfare,  in  which  Washington 
rose  upon  the  ruins  of  the  incautious  Braddock,  resolutions 
had  passed  the  British  Parliament  for  laying  a  stamp  duty  in 
America;  but  they  were  not  followed  immediately  by  any  legis- 
lative act.  The  declaratory  opinion  of  that  body  met  with  no 
opposition  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic,  because  the  "  omnipo- 
tence of  Parliament "  was  then  a  familiar  phrase;  but  afterward, 
when  the  measure  was  examined,  it  was  better  understood,  and  con- 
stitutional objections  were  urged  by  many  sagacious  statesmen, 
both  in  England  and  America. 

But,  notwithstanding  the  powerful  reasons  offered  against  this 
unjust  and  hazardous  experiment,  George  Grenville,  impelled  by 
a  partiality  for  a  long-cherished  scheme,  in  the  following  year, 
1765,  again  brought  into  the  House  of  Commons  this  unpopular 
bill,  and  succeeded  in  its  enactment.     By  this,  the  instruments 


AND   RECITATIONS.  85 

writing  in  daily  use  amongst  a  commercial  people  were  to  be 
11  and  void,  unless  executed  on  paper  or  parchment  stamped  with 
pecific  duty.  Law  documents  and  leases,  articles  of  apprentice- 
p  and  contracts,  protests  and  bills  of  sale,  newspapers  and  ad- 
tisements,  almanacs  and  pamphlets — all  must  contribute  to  the 
tish  treasury. 

When  the  measure  was  examined,  Charles  Townshend  delivered  a 
cch  in  its  favor,  in  concluding  which  he  said:  "Will  these 
lericans,  children  planted  by  our  care,  nourished  by  our  indul- 
ice  till  they  are  grown  up  to  a  degree  of  strength  and  opulence, 
I  protected  by  our  arms — will  they  grudge  to  contribute  their 
;e  to  relieve  us  from  the  weight  of  that  heavy  burden  under 
ich  we  lie?  " 

They  planted  by  your  care!"  replied  Colonel  Barre.  "No; 
;y  were  planted  by  your  oppressions.  They  fled  from  tyranny 
lan  uncultivated,  inhospitable  country,  where  they  exposed 
mselves  to  all  the  hardships  to  which  human  nature  is  liable; 
.,  amongst  others,  to  the  cruelty  of  a  savage  foe,  the  most  subtle, 
..,  I  will  take  it  upon  me  to  say,  the  most  formidable,  people 
the  face  of  this  earth.  And  yet,  actuated  by  principles  of  true 
;lish  liberty,  they  met  all  hardships  with  pleasure,  compared 
h  what  they  had  suffered  in  their  own  country,  from  the  hands 
hose  that  should  have  been  their  friends. 

They  nourished  by  your  indulgence!  They  grew  up  by  your 
lect.  As  soon  as  you  began  to  extend  your  care,  that  care  was 
)layed  in  sending  persons  to  rule  them,  in  one  department  and  an- 
3r,  who  were,  perhaps,  the  deputies  of  deputies  to  some  members 
he  House,  sent  to  spy  out  their  liberties,  to  misrepresent  their 
ons,  and  to  prey  upon  their  substance;  men  whose  behavior,  on 
ly  occasions,  has  caused  the  blood  of  those  sons  of  freedom  to 
i)il  within  them;  men  promoted  to  the  highest  seats  of  justice, 
e  who,  to  my  knowledge,  were  glad,  by  going  to  a  foreign 
atry,  to  escape  their  being  brought  to  the  bar  of  a  court  of 
ice  in  their  own. 
They  protected  by  your  arms!     They  have  nobly  taken  up  arms 


86  WERNER'S   READINGS 

in  your  defence,  have  exerted  a  valor  amidst  their  constant  labor 
ous  industry  for  the  defence  of  a  country  whose  frontier  ws 
drenched  in  blood,  while  its  interior  yielded  all  its  little  savings  i 
your  emolument.  And,  believe  me,  that  the  same  spirit  of  fret 
dom  which  actuated  these  people  at  first  will  accompany  thei 
still.     But  prudence  forbids  me  to  explain  myself  further. 

"  God  knows  I  do  not,  at  this  time,  speak  from  any  motives  c 
party  heat.  I  deliver  the  genuine  sentiments  of  my  heart.  Hov 
ever  superior  to  me,  in  general  knowledge  and  experience,  the  jr( 
spectable  body  of  this  House  may  be,  yet  I  claim  to  know  more  c 
America  than  most  of  you,  having  seen  that  country,  and  bee 
conversant  with  its  people.  They  are,  I  believe,  as  truly  loyal  a 
any  subjects  the  king  has;  but  a  people  jealous  of  their  liberties 
and  who  will  vindicate  them,  if  ever  they  should  be  violated.  Bu 
the  subject  is  too  delicate;  I  will  say  no  more." 

The  night  after  the  bill  passed,  Dr.  Franklin  wrote  to  Mi 
Charles  Thomson:  "The  sun  of  liberty  is  set;  you  must  light  u 
the  candles  of  industry  and  economy." 

Mr.  Thomson  answered:  "  I  was  apprehensive  that  other  light 
would  be  the  consequence,  and  I  foresee  the  opposition  that  wi 
be  made." 


THE    ELOQUENCE    OF    REVOLUTIONARY 
PERIODS. 


EUFUS    CHOATE. 


IF  you  bear  in  mind  that  the  aim  of  deliberative  eloquence  i 
to  persuade  to  an  action,  and  that  to  persuade  to  an  actioi 
it  must  be  shown  that  to  perform  it  will  gratify  some  one  of  th 
desires,  or  affections,  or  sentiments,  then  I  say  that  the  capita 
peculiarity  of  the  eloquence  of  all  times  of  revolution  is  that  t\v 
actions  it  persuades  to  are  the  highest  and  most  heroic  which  mei 
can  do,  and  the  passions  it  would  inspire  in  order  to  persuade  then 
are  the  most  lofty  which  man  can  feel.     Hence    are  his  topic 


AND   RECITATIONS.  87 

fi  large,  simple,  intelligible,  affecting.  Hence  are  his  views  broad, 
^impressive,  popular;  all  is  elemental,  intense,  practical,  unquali- 
I  fied,  undoubting. 

*     It  is  the  rallying  cry  of  patriotism,  of  liberty  in  the  sublim- 
■)  est  crisis  of  the  state — of  man.     It  is  a  deliberation  of  empire,  of 
glory,  of  existence  on  which  they  come  together.     To  be  or  not  to 
(|>be, — that  is  the  question.     Shall  the  children  of  the  men  of  Mar- 
iathon  become  slaves  of  Philip?      Shall  the  majesty  of  the  Senate 
and  people  of  Rome  stoop  to  wear  the  chains  forged  by  the  mili- 
tary executors  of  the  will  of  Julius  Caesar?     Shall  the  assembled 
representatives  of  France,  just  waking  from  her  sleep  of  ages  to 
claim  the  rights  of  man, — shall  they  disperse,  their  work  undone, 
'their  work  just  commencing?     Shall  Ireland  bound  upward  from 
her  long  prostration  and  cast  from  her  the  last  link  of  the  British 
chain?     Shall  the  thirteen  Colonies  become  and  be  free  and  inde- 
pendent states,   and  come,   unabashed,  unterrified,  an  equal  into 
uji  the  majestic  assembly  of  the  nations? 

These  are  the  thoughts  with  which  all  bosoms  are  distended  and 
^oppressed.     Filled  with  these,  and  with  these  flashing  in  every 
eye,  swelling  every  heart,  pervading  all  ages,  all  orders,  like  a  visi- 
tation, an  unquenchable  public  fire,  men  come  together — the  thou- 
sands of  Athens  around  the  Bema,  or  in  the  Temple  of  Dionysius; 
the  people   of   Rome  in  the  Forum,  the  Senate  in  that  council 
chamber  of  the  world;  the  masses  of  France,  as  the  spring-tide, 
into  her  gardens  of  the  Tuileries,  her  club-rooms,  her  hall  of  the 
Convention;  the  representatives,  the  genius,  the  grace,  the  beauty 
|  of  Ireland  into  the  Tuscan  Gallery  of  her  House  of  Commons;  the 
iji  delegates  of  the  Colonies  into  the  Hall  of  Independence  in  Phila- 
iofddelphia, — thus  men  come,  in  an  hour  of  revolution,  to  hang  upon 
ilflthe  lips  from  which  they  hope,  they  need,  they  demand  to  hear 
Iplhe  things  which  belong  to  their  national  salvation,  hungering  for 
iwphe  bread  of  life. 

ie|i  And  then,  and  thus,  comes  the  orator  of  that  time,  kindling  with 
erin fire ;  sympathizing  with  that  great  beating  heart;  charged  with  the 
ii(l  very  mission  of  life,  yet  unassured  whether  they  will  bear  or  forbear; 


88  WERNER' S   READINGS 

transcendent  good  within  their  grasp,  yet  a  possibility  that  the 
fatal  and  critical  opportunity  of  salvation  will  be  wasted;  the  last 
evils  of  men  and  of  nations  overhanging,  yet  the  siren  song  of  peace, 
peace  when  there  is  no  peace,  chanted  madly  by  some  voice  of  sloth 
or  fear, — there  and  thus  the  orators  of  revolutions  come'  to  work 
their  work!  Actions,  not  law  nor  policy,  whose  growth  and  fruits 
are  to  be  slowly  evolved  by  time  and  calm;  actions  daring,  doubtful, 
but  instant;  the  new  things  of  a  new  world, — these  are  what  the 
speaker  counsels;  large,  elementary,  gorgeous  ideas  of  right,  of 
equality,  of  independence,  of  liberty,  of  progress.  These  are  the: 
principles  from  which  he  reasons,  when  he  reasons;  these  are  the 
pinions  of  the  thought  on  which  he  soars  and  stays.  Directness, 
plainness,  a  narrow  range  of  topics,  few  details,  few  but  grand  ideas, 
a  headlong  tide  of  sentiment  and  feeling;  vehement,  indignant, 
and  reproachful  reasonings ;  an  example  from  Plutarch ;  a  sentence 
from  Tacitus;  thoughts  going  forth  as  ministers  of  nature  in  robes1 
of  light  and  with  arms  in  their  hands;  thoughts  that  breathe  and 
words  that  burn, — these  vaguely,  approximately,  express  the  general 
type  of  all  this  speech. 


THE  JOSHUA  OF   1776. 


W.    K.    KOSE. 


A  HOOF-BEAT  clatter  down  the  road,  a  hundred  years  ago, 
Foretold  through  Carolina  woods  the  coming  of  the  foe; 
In  dusty  clouds  they  swept  along,  while,  here  and  there,  were  seen! 
A  scarlet  coat,  a  tossing  plume,  a  bit  of  sabre  sheen ; 
Well-mounted  men,  hard  riders  all,  a  scourge  by  night  and  day —  | 
The  cruel  Tarleton  and  his  band  were  on  a  wild  foray. 
No  quarter  now  for  patriot  souls,  for  Tarleton,  in  his  wrath, 
With  blazing  ricks  and  ruined  homes  will  work  his  cruel  path! 
The  hoof-beats  echo  far  ahead  with  muffled,  throbbing  hum, 
Until  unto  a  modest  home  at  last  they  faintly  come ; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  89 

bjfet  though  the  sound  is  faint,  it  brings  a  woman  to  the  door 
With  anxious  face,  which  shows  she  dreads  some  misery  in  store. 
Me  glances  down  the  sandy  road — she  sees  the  dusty  cloud, 
i  iVith  gleaming  scarlet  here  and  there — and  then  she  cries  aloud : 
if  The  British,  George!     They're  coming  fast!  Unto  the  woods,  oh, 
run!  " 
V  moment  more  a  man  springs  forth  with  powder-horn  and  gun. 
I  hurried  kiss — a  dozen  strides — he  enters  in  the  wood — ■ 
if littie  watching  woman  smiles,  and  thanks  the  Giver  of  all  good, 
And  turns  and  draws  a  bright-faced  boy  with  tender  clasp  more 
9  near : 

,'  My  darling  child,  your  father's  safe,  and  now  we've  naught  to 

fear!" 
Jp  ride  the  sullen  British  band.     "  Dismount!  "  the  leader  cries; 
sf  Surround  the  house  and  search  it  well ;  we  must  not  lose  this  prize. " 
kLfflcith  heavy  clank  he  enters  in  and  scowls  about  the  room,. 
Jilt  burnished  pans,  and  tall  old  clock,  and  ancient  spinning-loom. 
;  Your  husband,  madam,  where  is  he?     Produce  the  rebel  clown! 
lefuse,  and,  madam,  here  I  swear  to  burn  your  dwelling  down! 
iVhere  is  he  hid?  "     She  shakes  her  head,  "  I  cannot,  cannot  tell;" 
me  turns  away  to  hide  the  tears  that  will  unbidden  well. 
'  So  stubborn,  eh?     Now  mark  my  words !  in  but  ten  minutes  more, 
It  hour  of  three,  by  yonder  clock,  the  torch  will  light  your  door!" 
le  turns  and  calls  to  waiting  men :  "  Search  every  crack  and  nook, 
bid  if  you  fail,  I'll  start  a  light  may  serve  to  help  us  look!  " 
le  strides  up  to  the  window,  theD,  and  looks  out  grim  and  sour 
Across  the  pleasant  southern  fields,  and  waits  the  fatal  hour, 
flie  woman's  eyes  are  filled  with  woe,  with  pain  her  heart  doth 

swell, 
bid  yet  between  her  ashy  lips  she  sighs :  "  I  cannot  tell !  " 
Che  moments  fly;  then  Tarleton  turns  the  tall  old  clock  to  see — 
1  How's  this?  "  he  mutters,  "  time  must  lag;  eight  minutes  still  to 

three! " 
^gain  he  gazes  o'er  the  field  with  grim,  unswerving  eye, 
Vhile  softly  weeps  the  hapless  dame,  and  fast  the  moments  fly. 


90  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Then  Tarleton  swiftly  turns  again  the  tall  old  clock  to  see — 

"  What  juggling  work  is  this?  "  he  cries;  "eight  minutes  still  to 

three!  " 
He  stands  and  stares  a  moment,  thus;  then  strides  across  the  floor, 
With  hasty  gestures  wide  he  throws  the  tall  clock's  ancient  door — 
And  there,  within  the  narrow  case,  that  bright-faced  boy  doth  stand, 
Holding  above  his  curly  head  a  clock  weight  in  each  hand ! 
Grim  Tarleton  stares,  the  mother  starts,  the  little  lad  alone 
As  calmly  stands  within  the  clock  as  if  to  marble  grown. 
A  moment   thus,  then   Tarleton   roars:    "Come   forth,  you   little 

knave!  " 
"  No  knave,  sir,"  stoutly  says  the  boy,  "  to  try  our  home  to  save!  " 
Grim  Tarleton  laughs,  both  loud  and  long;    and   "What's  your 

name?  "  he  cries. 
"  'Tis  Joshua,"  the  little  man  in  accents  clear  replies. 
"Well  named,  well  named,"  roars  Tarleton,  then — his  laugh  the 

room  doth  fill — 
"  For  though  you  didn't  stop  the  sun,  you've  made  old  time  stand 

still! 
Take  care,  madam,  of  this  young  scamp;  with  such  cubs  at  youi 

back, 
We  might  as  well  give  up  the  fight  and  take  the  homeward  track.' 
He  laughs  again,  and,  laughing,  clanks  across  the  cottage  floor; 
He  mounts  his  horse;  he  cries  "  Away!  "  they  never  saw  him  more. 


LEXINGTON. 


PROSPER   M.    WETMOBE. 


»'"T~,WAS  calm  at  eve  as  childhood's  sleep — • 

1        The  seraph  rest  that  knows  no  care; 
Still  as  the  slumbering  summer  deep 

When  the  blue  heaven  lies  dream-like  there, 
Blending  with  thoughts  of  that  azure  steep, 
The  bright,  the  beautiful,  and  fair; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  91 

Like  hopes  that  win  from  heaven  their  hue, 
As  fair,  as  fleeting,  and  as  few, 
Those  tranquil  Eden  moments  flew. 
The  morn  beheld  the  battle  strife — 
The  blow  for  blow,  the  life  for  life, 

The  deed  of  daring  done; 
The  Rubicon  of  doubt  was  past — 

An  empire  lost,  a  birthright  won — 
When  Freedom's  banner  braved  the  blast, 
Flashing  its  splendors  far  and  fast 

From  crimsoned  Lexington! 
There  was  a  fearful  gathering  seen 

On  that  eventful  day, 
And  men  were  there  who  ne'er  had  been 

The  movers  in  a  fray. 
The  peaceful  and  the  silent  came 

With  darkling  brows  and  flashing  eyes, 
And  breasts  that  knew  not  glory's  flame 

Burned  for  the  patriot  sacrifice! 
No  pomp  of  march,  no  proud  array, 

There  spake  no  trumpet  sound, 
But  they  pressed,  when  the  morn  broke  dim  and  gray, 

Dauntless  that  conflict  ground; 
Sadly,  as  if  some  tie  were  broken ; 

Firmly,  with  eye  and  lip  severe, 
Dark  glances  passed  and  words  were  spoken, 

As  men  will  look  and  speak  in  fear. 
Yet  coursed  no  coward  blood 
Where  that  lone  phalanx  stood, 

Bock-like,  but  spirit-wrought. 
A  strange,  unwonted  feeling  crept 
Through  every  breast;  all  memories  slept, 
While  passion  there  a  vigil  kept 

O'er  one  consuming  thought — 
To  live  a  fettered  slave,, 
Or  fill  a  freeman's  grave! 


92  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Though  many  an  arm  hung  weaponless, 

The  clenched  fingers  spake  full  well 
The  stern  resolve,  the  fearlessness, 

That  clanger  could  not  quell. 
Yet  some,  with  hasty  hand, 
The  rust-encumbered  brand 

Had  snatched  from  its  peaceful  sleep, 
And  held  it  now  with  a  grasp  that  told 
A  freeman's  life  should  be  dearly  sold — 

'Twas  courage  stern  and  deep! 
Proudly,  as  conquerors  come 
From  a  field  their  arms  have  won, 
With  bugle  blast  and  beat  of  drum, 

The  Briton  host  came  on ! 
Their  banners  unfurled  and  gayly  streaming; 
Their  burnished  arms  in  the  sunlight  gleaming; 

Fearless  of  evil,  with  valor  high, 
And  in  reckless  glee,  they  were  idly  dreaming 

Of  a  bloodless  triumph  nigh. 
The  heavy  tread  of  the  war-horse  prancing, 
The  lightning  gleam  of  the  bayonets  glancing, 

Broke  on  the  ear  and  flashed  on  the  eye, 
As  the  columned  foe,  in  their  strength  advancing, 

Pealed  their  war-notes  to  the  echoing  sky! 
'Twas  a  gallant  band  that  marshalled  there, 
With  the  dragon-flag  upborne  in  air; 
For  England  gathered  then  her  pride, 

The  harvest  of  a  warrior  land — 
Names  to  heroic  deeds  allied, 

The  strong  of  heart  and  hand 
They  came  in  their  panoplied  might, 

In  the  pride  of  their  chivalrous  name; 
For  music  to  them  were  the  sounds  of  the  fight, 

On  the  red  carnage-field  was  their  altar  of  fame. 
They  came  as  the  ocean- wave  comes  in  its  wrath, 


AND  RECITATIONS.  93 

When  the  storm-spirit  frowns  on  the  deep; 
They  came  as  the  mountain- wind  comes  on  its  path, 

AVhen  the  tempest  has  roused  it  from  sleep. 
They  were  met  as  the  rock  meets  the  wave, 

And  dashes  its  fury  to  air ; 
They  were  met  as  the  foe  should  be  met  by  the  brave, 

With  hearts  for  the  conflict,  but  not  for  despair! 

What  power  hath  stayed  that  wild  career! 
Not  mercy's  voice,  nor  a  thrill  of  fear — 
'Tis  the  dread  recoil  of  the  dooming  wave, 
Ere  it  sweeps  the  bark  to  its  yawning  grave; 
'Tis  the  fearful  hour  of  the  brooding  storm, 

Ere  the  lightning-bolt  hath  sped. 
The  shock  hath  come,  and  the  life-blood  warm 

Congeals  on  the  breast  of  the  dead ! 
The  strife,  the  taunt,  the  death-cry  loud, 
Are  pealing  through  the  sulphurous  cloud, 

As,  hand  to  hand,  each  foe  engages, 
While  hearts  that  ne'er  to  monarch  bowed, 
And  belted  knights  to  the  combat  crowd — 

A  fearless  throng  the  contest  wages. 
And  eye  to  eye — the  meek,  the  proud — 
Meet  darkly  'neath  the  battle-shroud. 

'Tis  the  feast  of  death  where  the  conflict  rages! 

Wo !  for  the  land  thou  tramplest  o'er, 

Death-dealing  fiend  of  war ! 
Thy  battle-hoofs  are  dyed  in  gore, 

Red  havoc  drives  thy  car. 
Wo!  for  the  dark  and  desolate, 

Down  crushed  beneath  thy  tread ! 
Thy  frown  has  been  as  a  withering  fate 

To  the  mourning  and  the  dead ! 
Vainly  they  think  his  step  will  come — 


94  WERNERS   READINGS 

Their  cherished  conies  no  more ! 
Wo !  for  the  broken-hearted 

The  lone  one  by  the  hearth; 
"Wo!  for  the  bliss  departed, 

The  Pleiad  gone  from  earth ! 
'Twas  a  day  of  changeful  fate 

For  the  foe  of  the  bannered  line, 
And  the  host  that  came  at  morn  in  state, 

Were  a  broken  throng  ere  the  sun's  decline; 
And  many  a  warrior's  heart  was  cold, 

And  many  a  soaring  spirit  crushed, 
Where  the  crimson  tide  of  battle  rolled, 

And  the  avenging  legions  rushed. 

Wreaths  for  the  living  conqueror, 

And  glory's  meed  for  the  perished! 
No  sculptor's  art  may  their  forms  restore, 

But  the  hero-names  are  cherished. 
When  voiced  on  the  wind  rose  the  patriot-call, 
They  gave  no  thought  to  the  glory  pall, 
But  pressed  to  the  fight  as  a  festival! 
They  bared  them  to  the  sabre-stroke, 
Nor  quailed  an  eye  when  the  fury  broke; 

They  fought  like  men  who  dared  to  die, 

For  freedom  was  their  battle-cry, 
And  loud  it  rang  through  the  conflict  smoke! 
Up  with  the  nation's  banners!     They  fly 

With  an  eagle-flight, 
To  the  far  blue  sky; 

'Tis  a  glorious  sight, 

As  they  float  abroad  in  the  azure  light, 
And  their  fame  shall  never  die! 

When  nations  search  their  brightest  page 
For  deeds  that  gild  the  olden  age, 


AND    RECITATIONS.  95 


Shining  the  meteor  lights  of  story, 
England  with  swelling  pride  shall  heai 
Of  Oressy's  field,  and  old  Poictiers, 

And  deathless  Agincourt; 
Fair  Gallia  point  with  a  kindling  eye 
To  the  days  of  her  belted  chivalry, 

And  her  gallant  troubadour; 
Old  Scotia,  too,  with  joy  shall  turn 
Where  beams  the  field  of  Bannockburn, 

And  Stirling's  field  of  glory! 
Land  of  the  free!  though  young  in  fame, 
Earth  may  not  boast  a  nobler  name; 
Plata?a's  splendor  is  not  thine, 

Leuctra,  nor  Marathon ; 
Yet  look  where  lives  in  glory's  line, 

The  day  of  Lexington ! 


BUNKER  HILL. 


GEORGE   II.    CALVERT. 


The  Americans  attempted  to  annoy,  and,  if  possible,  to  dislodge  the 
itish  forces  in  Boston.  On  the  16th  of  June,  1775,  a  breastwork  was 
own  up  on  Bunker's  Hill,  Charlestown,  and  so  silently  that  it  was 
irly  finished  before  the  British  discovered  it  at  daybreak,  and  began  to 
inonade  the  work  from  the  ships.  From  the  failure  of  ammunition, 
s  Americans  were  obliged  to  retreat.  Gen.  Warren  was  killed  and 
arlestown  laid  in  ashes.] 


*  6  \T^  ye^'  no^  ye^'  s^ea<^y»  steady!" 
l\      On  came  the  foe  in  even  line, 
Nearer  and  nearer  to  thrice  paces  nine. 
We  looked  into  their  eyes.     "  Ready!  " 
A  sheet  of  flame ;  a  roll  of  death ! 
They  fell  by  scores;  we  held  our  breath! 
Then  nearer  still  they  came. 
Another  sheet  of  flame; 


96  WERNER'S   READINGS 

And  brave  men  fled  who  never  fled  before. 

Immortal  fight! 

Foreshadowing  flight 
Back  to  the  astounded  shore. 

Quickly  they  rallied,  reenforced, 
'Mid  louder  roar  of  ships'  artillery, 
And  bursting  bombs  and  whistling  musketry, 
And  shouts  and  groans  anear,  afar, 
All  the  new  din  of  dreadful  war. 

Through  their  broad  bosoms  calmly  coursed 
The  blood  of  those  stout  farmers,  aiming 
For  freedom,  manhood's  birthright  claiming. 

Onward  once  more  they  came: 
Another  sheet  of  deathful  flame ! 
Another  and  another  still. 
They  broke,  they  fled ; 
Again  they  sped 
Down  the  green,  bloody  hill. 

Howe,  Burgoyne,  Clinton,  Gage, 
Stormed  with  commanders'  rage. 
Into  each  em p tied  barge 
They  crowd  fresh  men  for  a  new  charge 

Up  that  great  hill. 
Again  their  gallant  blood  we  spill. 
That  volley  was  the  last : 
Our  powder  failed. 
On  three  sides  fast 
The  foe  pressed  in ;  nor  quailed 
A  man.     Their  barrels  empty,  with  musket-stocks 
They  fought,  and  gave  death-dealing  knocks, 

Till  Prescott  ordered  the  retreat. 
Then  Warren  fell;  and  through  a  leaden  sleet 


AND   RECITATIONS.  9? 

From  Bunker  Hill  and  Breed, 
Stark,  Putnam,  Pomeroy,  Knowlton,  Read 
Led  off  the  remnant  of  those  heroes  true ; 
The  foe  too  weakened  to  pursue. 
The  ground  they  gained;  but  we 
The  victory. 

The  tidings  of  that  chosen  band 

Flowed  in  a  wave  of  power 
Over  the  shaken,  anxious  land, 

To  men,  to  man,  a  sudden  dower. 
History  took  a  fresh,  higher  start 
From  that  staunch,  beaming  hour; 
And  when  the  speeding  messenger,  that  bare 

The  news  that  strengthened  every  heart, 
Met  near  the  Delaware 

The  leader,  who  had  just  been  named, 
Who  was  to  be  so  famed, 
The  steadfast,  earnest  Washington, 
With  hands  uplifted,  cries, 
His  great  soul  flashing  to  his  eyes, 
"  Our  liberties  are  safe!  the  cause  is  won!  " 
A  thankful  look  he  cast  to  heaven,  and  then 
His  steed  he  spurred  in  haste  to  lead  such  noble  men. 


BUNKER'S  HILL. 


JOHN"   NEAL. 


NO  shout  disturbed  the  night 
Before  that  fearful  fight; 
There  was  no  boasting  high, 
No  marshalling  of  men 
Who  ne'er  might  meet  again — 
No  cup  was  filled  and  quaffed  to  victory! 


98  WERNER'S   READINGS 

No  plumes  were  there, 
No  banners  fair, 

No  trumpet  breathed  around, 

Nor  the  drum's  startling  sound 
Broke  on  the  midnight  air. 

There  was  a  "  still,  small  voice," 
As  of  one  from  out  the  grave 
Who  called  upon  the  brave 

To  perish  and  rejoice! 

There  was  a  sound  of  woe, 
Of  heartful  agony, 

For  those  who  were  to  go 
That  day  to  do  and  die. 

Then  fell  the  widow's  tear 
Upon  her  only  son — 
Her  sole  surviving  one, — 
Who,  ere  the  day  Avas  done, 

Might  be  upon  the  bier; 

Then  was  the  thick-drawn  breath, 
And  the  parent's  parting  sigh, 
And  the  husband's  startling  cry, 
And  the  lover's  moan  swept  by, 

And  all  was  still  as  death. 

There  was  no  proud  array, 

No  gorgeous  show  of  military  power, 
That  lasteth  for  an  hour 

And  then  hath  passed  away; 
On  that  eventful  day 

No  monarch  gave  the  word, 
No  hirelings  obey; 

No  trumpets'  sound  was  heard, 
Nor  the  steeds'  startling  neigh. 

But  commanders  gathered  there, 
Stout  of  heart  and  strong  of  limb, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  99 

Then  heard  the  chanted  hymn, 
And  the  lowly  muttered  prayer, 

And  the  foeman's  sullen  gun 

As  slowly  he  came  on, 
And  the  loud-pealed  "Hurrah!  " 

Then  the  strongest  knees  did  fail, 
And  the  ruddy  cheeks  grew  pale, 
And  the  balmy  summer  gale 

A  chill  o'er  many  cast, 

Who  had  braved  the  winter's  blast. 
There  was  a  distant  roar, 

There  was  a  nearer  crash, 
There  was  a  shout  along  the  shore, 

Along  the  hill  a  flash ; 
Then  came  the  foeman's  cry, 

And  then  the  foeman's  gun; 
A  siDgle  yell  of  agony, 

A  groan,  and  all  was  done; 

A  battle  fought,  a  victory  won ! 


DECLARATION   OF  INDEPENDENCE. 


July  4,  1776. 


WHEN,  in  the  course  of  human  events,  it  becomes  necessary  for 
one  people  to  dissolve  the  political  bands  which  have  con- 
nected them  with  another,  and  to  assume,  among  the  powers  of  the 
earth,  the  separate  and  equal  station  to  which  the  laws  of  nature 
and  of  nature's  God  entitle  them,  a  decent  respect  to  the  opinions 
of  mankind  requires  that  they  should  declare  the  causes  which 
impel  them  to  the  separation. 

We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self-evident:  That  all  men  are 
created  equal;  that  they  are  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain 
unalienable  rights;  that  among  these  are  life,  liberty,  and  the  pur- 


100  WERNER'S   READINGS 

suit  of  happiness;  that  to  secure  these  rights,  governments  are  I 
instituted  among  men,  deriving  their  just  powers  from  the  consent 
of  the  governed;  that  whenever  any  form  of  government  becomes 
destructive  of  these  ends,  it  is  the  right  of  the  people  to  alter  on 
to  abolish  it,  and  to  institute  a  new  government,  laying  its  founda- 
tion on  such  principles,  and  organizing  its  powers  in  such  form,  | 
as  to  them  shall  seem  most  likely  to  effect  their  safety  and  happi- 
ness. Prudence,  indeed,  will  dictate,  that  governments  long 
established  should  not  be  changed  for  light  and  transient  causes;  and 
accordingly  all  experience  hath  shown  that  mankind  are  more  dis- 
posed to  suffer  while  evils  are  snfferable,  than  to  right  themselves 
by  abolishing  the  forms  to  which  they  are  accustomed.  But  when 
a  long  train  of  abuses  and  usurpations,  pursuing  invariably  the 
same  object,  evinces  a  design  to  reduce  them  under  absolute  des- 
potism, it  is  their  right,  it  is  their  duty,  to  throw  off  such 
government,  and  to  provide  new  guards  for  their  future  security. 
Such  has  been  the  patient  sufferance  of  these  Colonies;  and  such  isj 
now  the  necessity  which  constrains  them  to  alter  their  former 
system  of  government.  The  history  of  the  present  King  of  Great 
Britain  is  a  history  of  repeated  injuries  and  usurpations,  all  having 
in  direct  object  the  establishment  of  an  absolute  tyranny  over 
these  states.  To  prove  this,  let  facts  be  submitted  to  a  candid 
world : 

He  has  refused  his  assent  to  laws  the  most  wholesome  and  nec- 
essary for  the  public  good. 

He  has  forbidden  his  governors  to  pass  laws  of  immediate  and 
pressing  importance,  unless  suspended  in  their  operation  till  his 
assent  should  be  obtained;  and  when  so  suspended,  he  has  utterly 
neglected  to  attend  to  them. 

He  has  refused  to  pass  other  laws  for  the  accommodation  of 
large  districts  of  people,  unless  those  people  would  relinquish  the 
right  of  representation  in  the  legislature, — a  right  inestimable  to 
them,  and  formidable  to  tyrants  only. 

He  has  called  together  legislative  bodies  at  places  unusual,  un- 
comfortable, and  distant  from  the  depository  of  their  public  records, 


AND    RECITATIONS.  101 

'or  the  sole  purpose  of  fatiguing  them  into  compliance  with  his 
measures. 

i    He  has  dissolved  representative  houses  repeatedly,  for  opposing, 
vith  manly  firmness,  his  invasions  on  the  rights  of  the  people. 

He  has  refused,  for  a  long  time  after  such  dissolutions,  to  cause 
,)thers  to  be  elected;  whereby  the  legislative  powers,  incapable  of 
mnihilation,  have  returned  to  the  people  at  large,  for  their  ex- 
ercise, the  state  remaining,  in  the  meantime,  exposed  to  all  the 
langers  of  invasion  from  without,  and  convulsion  within. 

He  has  endeavored  to  prevent  the  population  of  these  states;  for 
>;hat  purpose,  obstructing  the  laws  for  naturalization  of  foreigners, 
efusing  to  pass  others  to  encourage  their  migration  hither,  and 
raising  the  conditions  of  new  appropriations  of  lands. 

He  has  obstructed  the  administration  of  justice  by  refusing  his 
issent  to  laws  for  establishing  judiciary  powers. 

He  has  made  judges  dependent  on  his  will  alone  for  the  tenure 
-i)f  their  offices,  and  the  amount  and  payment  of  their  salaries. 

He  has  erected  a  multitude  of  new  offices,  and  sent  hither  swarms 
M  officers,  to  harass  our  people  and  eat  out  their  substance. 
ijj    He  has  kept  among  us,  in  times  of  peace,  standing  armies,  with- 
out the  consent  of  our  legislatures. 

He  has  affected  to  render  the  military  independent  of,  and  su- 
oerior  to,  the  civil  power. 

He  has  combined  with  others  to  subject  us  to  a  jurisdiction 
ioreign  to  our  constitution,  and  unacknowledged  by  our  laws,  giv- 
ng  his  assent  to  their  acts  of  pretended  legislation, — for  quartering 
>arge  bodies  of  armed  troops  among  us;  for  protecting  them,  by 
i  mock  trial,  from  punishment  for  any  murders  which  they  should 
3ommit  on  the  inhabitants  of  these  states;  for  cutting  off  our  trade 
hvith  all  parts  of  the  world;  for  imposing  taxes  on  us  without  our 
ithonsent;  for  depriving  us,  in  many  cases,  of  the  benefits  of  trial  by 
njury;  for  transporting  us  beyond  seas  to  be  tried  for  pretended 
offences;  for  abolishing  the  free  system  of  English  laws  in  a  neigh- 
boring province,  establishing  therein  an  arbitrary  government,  and 
enlarging  its  boundaries,  so  as  to  render  it  at  once  an  example  and 


102  WERNER'S   READINGS 

fit  instrument  for  introducing  the  same  absolute  rule  into  these 
Colonies;  for  taking  away  our  charters,  abolishing  our  most  valuable 
laws,  and  altering,  fundamentally,  the  powers  of  our  government; 
for  suspending  our  own  legislatures,  and  declaring  themselves  in- 
vested with  power  to  legislate  for  us  in  all  cases  whatsoever. 

He  has  abdicated  government  here,  by  declaring  us  out  of  his 
protection,  and  waging  war  against  us. 

He  has  plundered  our  seas,  ravaged  our  coasts,  burnt  our  towns, 
and  destroyed  the  lives  of  our  people. 

He  is,  at  this  time,  transporting  large  armies  of  foreign  merce- 
naries, to  complete  the  works  of  death,  desolation,  and  tyranny 
already  begun  with  circumstances  of  cruelty  and  perfidy  scarcely 
paralleled  in  the  most  barbarous  ages,  and  totally  unworthy  the  head 
of  a  civilized  nation. 

He  has  constrained  our  fellow-citizens,  taken  captive  on  the  high 
seas,  to  bear  arms  against  their  country,  to  become  the  executioners 
of  their  friends  and  brethren,  or  to  fall  themselves  by  their  hands. 

He  has  excited  domestic  insurrections  amongst  us,  and  has  en- 
deavored to  bring  on  the  inhabitants  of  our  frontiers  the  merciless 
Indian  savages,  whose  known  rule  of  warfare  is  an  undistinguished 
destruction  of  all  ages,  sexes,  and  conditions. 

In  every  stage  of  these  oppressions  we  have  petitioned  for  redress 
in  the  most  humble  terms;  our  repeated  petitions  have  been 
answered  only  by  repeated  injury.  A  prince,  whose  character  is 
thus  marked  by  every  act  which  may  define  a  tyrant,  is  unfit  to  be 
the  ruler  of  a  free  people. 

Nor  have  we  been  wanting  in  attention  to  our  British  brethren. 
We  have  warned  them,  from  time  to  time,  of  attempts  by  tbeir 
legislature  to  extend  an  unwarrantable  jurisdiction  over  us.  We 
have  reminded  them  of  the  circumstances  of  our  emigration  and 
settlement  here.  We  have  appealed  to  their  native  justice  and 
magnanimity;  and  we  have  conjured  them,  by  the  ties  of  our  com- 
mon kindred,  to  disavow  these  usurpations,  which  would  inevitably 
interrupt  our  connections  and  correspondence.  They,  too,  have 
been  deaf  to  the  voice  of  justice  and  of  consanguinity.     We  must, 


AND    RECITATIONS.  103 

therefore,  acquiesce  in  the  necessity  which  denounces  our  separation, 
and  hold  them,  as  we  hold  the  rest  of  mankind,  enemies  in  war,  in 
peace  friends. 

We,  therefore,  the  representatives  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica, in  General  Congress  assembled,  appealing  to  the  Supreme 
Judge  of  the  world  for  the  rectitude  of  our  intentions,  do,  in  the 
name  and  by  the  authority  of  the  good  people  of  these  Colonies, 
solemnly  publish  and  declare,  That  these  united  Colonies  are,  and 
of  right  ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  states;  that  they  are 
absolved  from  all  allegiance  to  the  British  crown,  and  that  all  po- 
litical connection  between  them  and  the  state  of  Great  Britain  is, 
and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved;  and  that,  as  free  and  independent 
states,  they  have  full  power  to  levy  war,  conclude  peace,  contract 
alliances,  establish  commerce,  and  to  do  all  other  acts  and  things 
which  independent  states  may  of  right  do.  And,  for  the  support 
of  this  declaration,  with  a  firm  reliance  on  the  protection  of  Divine 
Providence,  we  mutually  pledge  to  each  other  our  lives,  our  for- 
tunes, and  our  sacred  honor. 


THE   BELL  OF  LIBERTY. 


J.    T.    HEADLEY. 


[Congress  organized  a  Continental  Army  and  placed  George  Washington 
at  its  head.  The  news  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill  excited  astonishment 
in  England,  and  induced  Lord  Chatham  to  attempt  a  change  in  the 
measures  of  the  British  government.  But  in  this  he  was  unsuccessful, 
and  the  ministry  decided  to  employ  a  force  powerful  enough  to  reduce 
the  colonies  to  submission.  Thomas  Paine  advocated  the  expediency  and 
necessity  of  a  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  the  motion  was  carried 
by  a  vote  nearly  unanimous  on  July  4,  1776.  J 


THE  representatives  of  the  people  assembled  in  solemn  con- 
clave, and  long  and  anxiously  surveyed  the  perilous  ground 
on  which  they  were  treacling.  To  recede  was  now  impossible;  to 
go  on  seemed  fraught  with  terrible  consequences.  The  result  of 
the  long  and  fearful  conflict  that  must  follow  was  more  than 
doubtful.     For  twenty  days  Congress  was  tossed  on  a  sea  of  per- 


104  WERNER'S   READINGS 

plexity.  At  length,  Richard  Henry  Lee,  shaking  off  the  fetters 
that  galled  his  noble  spirit,  arose,  on  the  7th  of  June,  and  in  a 
clear,  deliberate  tone,  every  accent  of  which  rang  to  the  farthest 
extremity  of  the  silent  hall,  proposed  the  following  resolution :  "  Re- 
solved, That  these  united  Colonies  are,  and  ought  to  be,  free  and 
independent  states,  and  all  political  connection  between  us  and  the 
states  of  Great  Britain  is,  and  ought  to  be,  totally  dissolved." 

John  Adams,  in  whose  soul  glowed  the  burning  future,  seconded 
the  resolution  in  a  speech  so  full  of  impassioned  fervor,  thrilling 
eloquence,  and  prophetic  power,  that  Congress  was  carried  away  be- 
fore it  as  by  a  resistless  wave.  The  die  was  cast,  and  every  man 
was  now  compelled  to  meet  the  issue.  The  resolution  was  finally 
deferred  till  the  1st  of  July,  to  allow  a  committee,  appointed  for 
that  purpose,  to  draft  a  Declaration  of  Independence. 

When  the  day  arrived,  the  Declaration  was  taken  up  and  debated 
article  by  article.  The  discussion  continued  for  three  days,  and 
was  characterized  by  great  excitement.  At  lengtb,  the  various 
sections  having  been  gone  through  with,  the  next  day,  July  4th, 
was  appointed  for  action.  It  was  soon  known  throughout  the  city; 
and  in  the  morning,  before  Congress  assembled,  the  streets  were 
filled  with  excited  men,  some  gathered  in  groups  engaged  in  eager 
discussion,  and  others  moving  toward  the  state-house.  All  business 
was  forgotten  in  the  momentous  crisis  which  the  country  had  now 
reached.  No  sooner  had  the  members  taken  their  seats  than  the 
multitude  gathered  in  a  dense  mass  around  the  entrance.  The 
bellman  mounted  to  the  belfry,  to  be  ready  to  proclaim  the 
joyful  tidings  of  freedom  as  soon  as  the  final  vote  was  passed.  A 
bright-eyed  boy  was  stationed  below  to  give  the  signal.  Around 
the  bell,  brought  from  England,  had  been  cast,  more  than  twenty 
years  before,  the  prophetic  motto:  "Proclaim  liberty  throughout 
all  the  land,  unto  all  the  inhabitants  thereof."  Although  its  loud 
clang  had  often  sounded  over  the  city,  the  proclamation  engraved 
on  its  iron  lip  had  never  yet  been  spoken  aloud. 

It  was  expected  that  the  final  vote  would  be  taken  without  delay; 
but  hour  after  hour  wore  on,  and  no  report  came  from  the  myste' 


AND   RECITATIONS.  105 

rious  hall  where  the  fate  of  a  continent  was  in  suspense.  The 
multitude  grew  impatient.  The  old  man  leaned  over  the  railing, 
straining  his  eye  downward,  till  his  heart  misgave  him,  and  hope 
yielded  to  fear.  But  at  length,  about  two  o'clock,  the  door  of  the 
hall  opened,  and  a  voice  exclaimed,  "It  has  passed!"  The  word 
leaped  like  lightning  from  lip  to  lip,  followed  by  huzzas  that  shook 
the  building.  The  boy-sentinel  turned  to  the  belfry,  clapped  his 
hands,  and  shouted,  "Ring!  ring!"  The  desponding  bellman, 
electrified  into  life  by  the  joyful  news,  seized  the  iron  tongue,  and 
hurled  it  backward  and  forward  with  a  clang  that  startled  every 
heart  in  Philadelphia  like  a  bugle  blast.  "Clang!  Clang!"  the 
bell  of  Liberty  resounded  on,  higher  and  clearer  and  more  joyous, 
blending  in  its  deep  and  thrilling  vibration,  and  proclaiming  in 
loud  and  long  accents  over  all  the  land  the  motto  that  encircled  it. 
Glad  messengers  caught  the  tidings  as  they  floated  out  on  the  air, 
and  spread  off  in  every  direction  to  bear  them  onward.  When 
they  reached  New  York,  the  bells  rang  out  the  glorious  news,  and 
the  excited  multitude,  surging  hither  and  thither,  at  length 
gathered  around  the  Bowling  Green,  and  seizing  the  leaden  statue 
of  George  III.,  which  stood  there,  tore  it  in  fragments.  These 
were  afterward  run  into  bullets  and  hurled  against  his  Majesty's 
troops.  When  the  Declaration  arrived  in  Boston,  the  people 
#  gathered  to  the  old  Faneuil  Hall  to  hear  it  read ;  and  as  the  last 
sentence  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  reader,  a  loud  shout  went  up,  and 
soon  from  every  fortified  height  and  every  battery  the  thunder  of 
cannon  reechoed  the  joy. 


THE   DECLARATION   OF   INDEPENDENCE. 


CARL   SCHURZ. 


LET  your  imagination  carry  you  back  to  the  year  1776.  You 
stand  in  the  hall  of  the  old  colonial  court-house,  of  Phila- 
delphia. Through  the  open  door  you  see  the  Continental  Congress 
assembled;  the  moment  for  a  great  decision  is  drawing  near.     The 


106  WERNER'S   READINGS 

first  little  impulses  to  the  general  upheaval  of  the  popular  spirit, 
the  Tea  Tax,  the  Stamp  Act,  drop  into  insignificance;  they  are 
almost  forgotten  ;  the  revolutionary  spirit  has  risen  far  above  them. 
It  puts  the  claim  to  independence  upon  the  broad  basis  of  eternal 
rights,  as  self-evident  as  the  sun,  as  broad  as  the  world,  as  common 
as  the  air  of  heaven. 

The  struggle  of  the  colonies  against  the  usurping  government 
of  Great  Britain  has  risen  to  the  proud  dimensions  of  a  struggle  of 
man  for  liberty  and  equality.  Not  only  the  supremacy  of  old  Eng- 
land is  to  be  shaken  off,  but  a  new  organization  of  society  is  to  be 
built  up,  on  the  basis  of  liberty  and  equality.  That  is  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence!     That  is  the  American  Revolution! 

It  is  a  common  thing  that  men  of  a  coarse  cast  of  mind  so  lose 
themselves  in  the  mean  pursuit  of  selfish  ends,  as  to  Become  in- 
sensible to  the  grand  and  sublime.  Measuring  every  character  and 
every  event  in  history  by  the  low  standard  of  their  own  individual- 
ities, incapable  of  grasping  broad  and  generous  ideas,  they  will  be- 
little every  great  thing  they  cannot  deny,  and  drag  down  every 
struggle  of  principle  to  the  sordid  arena  of  aspiring  selfishness. 

Eighteen  hundred  years  ago  there  were  men  who  saw  in  incipient 
Christianity  nothing  but  a  mere  wrangle  between  Jewish  theologians, 
gotten  up  by  a  carpenter's  boy,  and  carried  on  by  a  few  crazy  fisher- 
men. Three  hundred  years  ago  there  were  men  who  saw  in  the* 
great  reformatory  movement  of  the  16th  century,  not  the  emanci- 
pation of  the  individual  conscience,  but  a  mere  fuss  raised  by  a 
German  monk,  who  wanted  to  get  married.  Two  hundred  years 
ago  there  were  men  who  saw  in  Hampden's  refusal  to  pay  the  ship's 
money,  not  a  bold  vindication  of  constitutional  liberty,  but  the 
crazy  antics  of  a  man  who  was  mean  enough  to  quarrel  about  a  few 
shillings.  And  now  there  are  men  who  see  in  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  and  the  American  Revolution,  not  the  reorganization 
of  human  society  upon  a  basis  of  liberty  and  equality,  but  a  dodge 
of  some  English  colonists  who  were  unwilling  to  pay  their  taxes. 

It  is  in  vain  for  demagogism  to  raise  its  short  arms  against  the 
truth  of  history.     The  Declaration  of  Independence  stands  there. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  107 

No  candid  man  ever  read  it  without  seeing  and  feeling  that  every 
word  of  it  was  dictated  by  deep  and  earnest  thought,  and  that  every 
sentence  of  it  bears  the  stamp  of  philosophic  generality.  It  is  the 
summing  up  of  the  results  of  the  philosophical  development  of  the 
age;  the  practical  embodiment  of  the  progressive  ideas,  which,  far 
from  being  confined  to  the  narrow  limits  of  the  English  colonies, 
pervaded  the  very  atmosphere  of  all  civilized  countries. 


ON  THE   DECLARATION   OF   INDEPENDENCE. 


RICHARD    S.    STORRS,    D.  D. 


NOT  out  of  books,  legal  researches,  historical  inquiry,  the  care- 
ful and  various  studies  of  language,  came  the  Declaration  of 
I  Independence;  but  out  of  repeated  public  debate,  out  of  manifold 
I  personal  and  private  discussion,  out  of  Jefferson's  clear,  sympathetic 
observation  of  the  feeling  and  thought  of  men,  out  of  that  exquisite 
!  personal  sensibility  to  vague  and  impalpable  popular  impulses  which 
\  was  in  him  innately  combined  with  artistic  taste,  an  ideal  nature,  and 
'irare  power  of  philosophical  thought.  The  voice  of  the  cottage  as 
well  as  the  college,  of  the  church  as  well  as  the  legislative  assembly, 
>was  in  the  paper.  It  echoed  the  talk  of  the  farmer  in  homespun, 
I  as  well  as  the  classic  eloquence  of  Lee,  or  the  terrible  tones  of 
Patrick  ^Henry.  It  gushed  at  last  from  the  pen  of  its  writer,  like 
I  the  fountain  from  the  roots  of  Lebanon,  a  brimming  river  when  it 
i  issues  from  the  rock ;  but  it  was  because  its  sources  had  been  sup- 
plied, its  fulness  filled  by  unseen  springs;  by  the  rivulets  winding 
I  far  up  among  the  cedars,  and  percolating  through  hidden  crevices 
i in  the  stone;  by  melting  snows,  whose  white  sparkle  seemed  still 
i  on  the  stream ;  by  fierce  rains,  with  which  the  basins  above  were 
i  drenched ;  by  even  the  dews,  silent  and  wide,  which  had  lain  in 
i  stillness  all  night  upon  the  hill. 

The  Platonic  idea  of  the  development  of  the  state  was  thus 
realized  here:  first  ethics,  then  politics.  A  public  opinion,  ener- 
getic and   dominant,  took   its  place  from  the  start  as  the  chief 


108  WERNER'S   READINGS 

instrument  of  the  new  civilization.  No  dashing  manoeuvres  of 
skilful  commanders,  no  sudden  burst  of  popular  passion,  was  in  the 
Declaration ;  but  the  vast  mystery  of  a  supreme  and  imperative 
public  life,  at  once  diffused  and  intense — behind  all  persons,  before 
all  plans,  beneath  which  individual  wills  are  exalted,  at  whose  touch 
the  personal  mind  is  inspired,  and  under  whose  transcendent 
impulse  the  smallest  instrument  becomes  of  a  terrific  force.  That 
made  the  Declaration ;  and  that  makes  it  now,  in  its  modest  brevity, 
take  its  place  with  Magna  Charta  and  the  Petition  of  Eight,  as 
full  as  they  of  vital  force,  and  destined  to  a  parallel  permanence. 


A  NATION   BORN   IN   A   DAY. 


JOHN    QUIKCY    ADAMS. 


THE  Declaration  of  Independence!  The  interest  which  in  that 
paper  has  survived  the  occasion  upon  which  it  was  issued, 
the  interest  which  is  of  every  age  and  every  clime,  the  interest 
which  quickens  with  the  lapse  of  years,  spreads  as  it  grows  old, 
and  brightens  as  it  recedes,  is  in  the  principles  which  it  proclaims. 
It  was  the  first  solemn  declaration  by  a  nation  of  the  only  legitimate 
foundation  of  civil  government.  It  was  the  corner-stone  of  a  new 
fabric,  destined  to  cover  the  surface  of  the  globe.  It  demolished 
at  a  stroke  the  lawfulness  of  all  governments  founded  upon  con- 
quest. It  swept  away  all  the  rubbish  of  accumulated  centuries  of 
servitude.  It  announced  in  practical  form  to  the  world  the  tran- 
scendent truth  of  the  inalienable  sovereignty  of  the  people.  It 
proved  that  the  social  compact  was  no  figment  of  the  imagination, 
but  a  real,  solid,  and  sacred  bond  of  the  social  union.  From  the 
day  of  this  declaration  the  people  of  North  America  were  no  longer 
the  fragment  of  a  distant  empire,  imploring  justice  and  mercy 
from  an  inexorable  master  in  another  hemisphere.  They  were  no 
longer  children,  appealing  in  vain  to  the  sympathies  of  a  heartless 
mother;  no  longer  subjects,  leaning  upon  the  shattered  columns  of 
royal  promises,  and  invoking  the   faith  of  parchment  to  secure 


AND   RECITATIONS.  109 

their  rights.     They  were  a  nation,  asserting  as  of  right  and  main- 
taining by  war  its  own  existence.     A  nation  was  born  in  a  day. 

"  How  many  ages  hence 
Shall  this,  their  lofty  scene,  be  acted  o'er 
In  states  unborn,  and  accents  yet  unknown?" 

It  will  be  acted  o'er,  fellow-citizens,  but  it  can  never  be  repeated. 
It  stands,  and  must  forever  stand,  alone;  a  beacon  on  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  to  which  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  may  turn 
their  eyes  for  a  genial  and  saving  light,  till  time  shall  be  lost  in 
eternity,  and  this  globe  itself  dissolve,  nor  leave  a  wreck  behind. 
It  stands  forever,  a  light  of  admonition  to  the  rulers  of  men,  a  light 
of  salvation  and  redemption  to  the  oppressed.  So  long  as  this 
planet  shall  be  inhabited  by  human  beings,  so  long  as  man  shall 
be  of  a  social  nature,  so  long  as  government  shall  be  necessary  to 
the  great  moral  purposes  of  society,  so  long  as  it  shall  be  abused  to 
the  purposes  of  oppression, — so  long  shall  this  declaration  hold  out 
to  the  sovereign  and  to  the  subject  the  extent  and  the  boundaries 
of  their  respective  rights  and  duties,  founded  in  the  laws  of  nature 
and  of  nature's  God. 


THE   BIRTHDAY  OF  THE  REPUBLIC. 


THOMAS    PAINE. 


[September  3,  1783,  there  was  concluded  at  Versailles  a  Treaty  of 
Peace,  by  which  the  thirteen  united  colonies  were  acknowledged  to  be 
"  Free,  sovereign,  and  independent  states. "] 


THE  times  that  tried  men's  souls  are  over,  and  the  greatest  and 
completest  revolution  the  world  ever  knew  is  gloriously  and 
happily  accomplished.  To  see  it  in  our  power  to  make  a  world 
happy,  to  teach  mankind  the  art  of  being  so,  to  exhibit  on  the 
theatre  of  the  universe  a  character  hitherto  unknown,  and  to  have, 
as  it  were,  a  new  creation  intrusted  to  our  hands,  are  honors  that 
command  reflection,  and  can  neither  be  too  highly  estimated  nor 
too  gratefully  received.     In  this  pause,  then,  of  recollection,  while 


110  WERNER'S   READINGS 

the  storm  is  ceasing  and  the  long  agitated  mind  vibrating  to  a  rest, 
let  us  look  back  on  the  scenes  we  have  passed,  and  learn  from  ex- 
perience what  is  yet  to  be  done. 

Never,  I  say,  had  a  country  so  many  openings  to  happiness  as 
this.  Her  setting  out  in  life,  like  the  rising  of  a  fair  morning,  was 
unclouded  and  promising.  Her  cause  was  good,  her  principles 
just  and  liberal,  her  temper  serene  and  firm.  Her  conduct  was 
regulated  by  the  nicest  steps,  and  everything  about  her  wore  the 
mark  of  honor.  It  is  not  every  country — perhaps  there  is  not  an- 
other in  the  world — that  can  boast  so  fair  an  origin.  Rome,  once 
the  proud  mistress  of  the  universe,  was  originally  a  band  of  ruffians ; 
but  America  need  never  be  ashamed  to  tell  her  birth,  nor  relate  the 
stages  by  which  she  rose  to  empire.  The  remembrance,  then,  of 
what  is  past,  if  it  operates  rightly,  must  inspire  her  with  the  most 
laudable  of  all  ambition, — that  of  adding  to  the  fair  fame  she  be- 
gan with.  The  world  has  seen  her  great  in  adversity;  let  then  the 
world  see  that  she  can  bear  prosperity,  and  that  her  honest  virtue 
in  time  of  peace  is  equal  to  the  bravest  virtue  in  time  of  war. 

The  debt  which  America  has  contracted,  compared  with  the 
cause  she  has  gained  and  the  advantages  to  flow  from  it,  ought 
scarcely  to  be  mentioned.  The  world  is  in  her  hands.  She  has  no 
foreign  power  to  monopolize  her  commerce,  perplex  her  legislation, 
or  control  her  prosperity.  With  the  blessings  of  peace,  indepen- 
dence, and  a  universal  commerce,  the  states,  individually  and  col- 
lectively, will  have  time  to  regulate  their  domestic  concerns,  and 
to  put  it  beyond  the  power  of  calumny  to  throw  the  least  reflection 
on  their  honor. 

But  that  which  must  much  more  forcibly  strike  a  thoughtful, 
penetrating  mind  is  the  union  of  the  states.  On  this  our  great 
national  character  depends.  It  is  this  which  must  give  us  impor- 
tance abroad  and  security  at  home.  It  is  through  this  only  that 
we  are  or  can  be  nationally  known  to  the  world.  It  is  the  flag  of 
iheU?iited  States  which  renders  oui  ships  and  commerce  safe  on  the 
seas  or  in  a  foreign  port.  All  our  treaties,  whether  of  alliance, 
peace,  or  commerce,  are  formed  under  the  sovereignty  of  the  United 


AND   RECITATIONS.  HI 

(bates  of  America,  and  Europe  knows  us  by  no  other  title  or  name. 
Hie  division  of  the  empire  into  states  is  for  our  own  convenience, 
ut  abroad  this  distinction  ceases.  We  have  no  other  national 
Dvereignty  than  as  United  States.  Sovereignty  must  have  power 
3  protect  all  the  parts  that  compose  and  constitute  it,  and  as 
fnited  States  Ave  are  equal  to  the  importance  of  the  title.  Our 
nion,  well  and  wisely  regulated  and  cemented,  is  the  cheapest 
-ay  of  being  great,  the  easiest  way  of  being  powerful,  the  happiest 
ivention  in  government  which  the  circumstances  of  America  can 
dmit  of. 


MARQUIS  DE   LA   FAYETTE. 


CHAKLES   SUMNER. 


DVERTOPPING  all  others  in  character,  La  Fayette  was  con- 
spicuous in  debate.  Especially  was  he  aroused  whenever 
uman  liberty  was  in  question;  nor  did  he  hesitate  to  vindicate 
he  great  revolution  in  France,  at  once  in  its  principles  and  in  its 
Tactical  results,  boldly  declaring  that  its  evils  were  to  be  referred, 
ot  so  much  to  the  bad  passions  of  men,  as  to  those  timid  counsels 
rhich  instituted  compromise  for  principle.  His  parliamentary 
lareer  was  interrupted  by  an  episode  which  belongs  to  the  poetry 
f  history — his  visit  to  the  United  States  upon  the  invitation  of  the 
imerican  Congress.  The  Boston  poet  at  that  time  gave  expression 
o  the  universal  feeling  when  he  said: 

"We  bow  not  the  neck,  we  bend  not  the  knee, 
But  our  hearts,  La  Fayette,  we  surrender  to  thee." 

As  there  never  was  such  a  guest,  so  there  never  was  such  a  host; 
nd  yet,  throughout  all  the  transcendent  hospitality  binding  him 
i-y  new  ties,  he  kept  the  loyalty  of  his  heart — he  did  not  forget  the 
Lfrican  slave.  But  his  country  had  further  need  of  his  services. 
Imarles  X.  undertook  to  subvert  the  charter  under  which  he  held 
lis  crown ;  Paris  was  again  aroused,  and  France  was  heaving.  Then 
.id  all  eyes  turn  to  the  patriot  farmer  of  Lagrange,  to  the  hero 


112  WERNER'S   READINGS 

already  of  two  revolutions,  to  inspire  confidence  alike  by  his  bravery 
and  by  his  principles.  Now  seventy  years  of  age,  with  a  few 
friends,  among  whom  was  a  personal  friend  of  my  own — whom 
some  of  you  also  know,  Dr.  Howe,  of  Boston, — he  passed  through 
the  streets  where  the  conflict  was  hotly  raging,  and  across  the  barri- 
cades, to  the  City  Hall,  when  he  was  again  placed  at  the  head  of 
the  national  guard  of  France. 

"  Liberty  shall  triumph,"  said  he  in  his  first  proclamation,  "or 
we  will  perish  together."  Charles  X.  fell  before  the  words  of  that 
old  man.  The  destinies  of  France  were  again  in  his  hand.  He 
might  have  made  himself  Dictator;  he  might  have  established  a 
republic  of  which  he  might  have  been  chief;  but,  mindful  of 
that  moderation  which  was  the  rule  of  his  life,  unwilling  to  haz- 
ard again  the  civil  conflict  which  had  drenched  France  with  fra- 
ternal blood,  he  proposed  a  popular  throne  surrounded  by  popular 
institutions.  The  Duke  of  Orleans,  as  Louis  Philippe,  became 
King  of  Fronce.  Unquestionably  his  own  desire  was  for  a  repub- 
lic, upon  the  American  model;  but  he  gave  up  this  darling  desire 
of  his  heart,  satisfied  that,  at  least,  liberty  was  secured.  '  If  this 
was  not  so,  it  was  because,  for  a  moment,  he  had  put  his  trust  in 
princes.  He  again  withdrew  to  his  farm,  but  his  heart  was  wher- 
ever liberty  was  in  question — now  with  the  Pole,  now  with  the 
Italian,  now  with  the  African  slave.  For  the  rights  of  the  latter 
he  had  unfailing  sympathy,  and  upon  the  principle,  as  he  expressed 
it,  "  Every  slave  has  the  right  of  immediate  emancipation,  by  the 
concession  of  his  master  or  by  force,  and  this  principle  no  man 
can  call  in  question."  Tenderly  he  approached  this  great  question 
of  our  own  country,  but  the  constancy  with  which  he  did  it  shows 
that  it  haunted  and  perplexed  him  like  a  sphinx,  with  a  perpetual 
riddle.  He  could  not  understand  how  men  who  had  fought  for 
their  own  liberty  could  deny  liberty  to  others.  But  he  did  not  de- 
spair; although  at  one  time  in  his  old  age  his  impatient  philan- 
thropy broke  forth  in  the  declaration,  that  he  never  would  have 
drawn  the  sword  for  America  had  he  known  that  it  was  to  found  a 
government  that  sanctioned  human  slavery. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  113 

The  time  was  now  at  hand  when  his  great  career  was  to  close. 
Being  taken  ill,  at  first  with  a  cold,  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  in- 
jquired  of  his  son  after  his  health ;  and  upon  the  next  day,  May  20, 
,1834,  he  died,  at  the  age  of  seventy-seven.  The  ruling  passion  was 
strong  to  the  last.  As  at  the  beginning,  so  at  the  end,  he  was  all 
for  freedom;  and  the  last  lines  traced  by  his  hand,  which  he  rose 
from  his  death-bed  to  write,  attest  his  joy  at  that  great  act  of 
emancipation  by  which  England,  at  an  expense  of  $100,000,000, 
had  given  freedom  to  800,000  slaves.  "  Nobly,"  he  writes — and 
these  were  the  last  words  of  your  benefactor — "  nobly  has  the  pub- 
lic treasure  been  employed."  And  these  last  words,  speaking  from 
the  tomb,  still  sound  in  our  ears.  Such  was  La  Fayette.  At  the 
tidings  of  his  death  there  was  mourning  in  two  hemispheres,  for 
the  whole  earth  was  the  sepulchre  of  the  illustrious  man. 

Judge  him  by  what  he  did  throughout  a  long  life,  and  you 
must  confess  his  greatness.  Judge  him  by  the  principles  of  his 
life,  and  you  must  bend  with  reverence  before  him.  In  all  his- 
tory he  stands  alone.  There  is  no  one  who  has  done  so  much  for 
human  freedom.  In  youth  showing  the  firmness  of  age,  and  in 
age  showing  the  ardor  of  youth;  trampling  upon  the  prejudices  of 
birth,  upon  the  seductions  of  power,  upon  the  blandishments  of 
Wealth,  setting  aside  the  favor  even  of  that  people  whom  he  loved  so 
well;  whether  placed  at  the  height  of  worldly  ambition,  or  plunged 
in  the  vaults  of  a  dungeon,  always  true  to  the  same  principle. 

Great  he  was,  indeed,  not  as  an  author,  although  he  has  written 
what  we  are  all  glad  to  read;  not  as  an  orator,  although  he  has 
spoken  so  often  and  well;  not  as  a  soldier,  although  always  brave, 
iand  often  working  miracles  of  genius;  not  as  a  statesman,  although 
versed  in  government  and  intuitively  perceiving  the  relations  of 
men  and  nations — not  on  these  accounts  is  he  great;  but  he  is  great 
as  one  of  the  world's  benefactors  who  possessed  the  largest  measure 
of  that  greatest  gift  of  God  to  man,  the  genius  of  beneficence.  And 
great  he  is  as  an  example  which,  so  long  as  history  endures,  shall 
teach  all — the  author,  the  soldier,  the  statesman, — all  alike  to  la- 
bor, and,  if  need  be,  to  suffer,  for  human  right.      The  fame  of  such 


114  WERNER'S   READINGS 

a  character,  brightening  with  the  advance  of  civilization,  can  find 
no  limit  except  in  earthly  gratitude. 


WASHINGTON   AT  VALLEY   FORGE. 


THEODOEE   PARKER. 


DURING  the  winter  of  1777-8,  Washington  went  into  winter 
quarters  at  Valley  Forge.  What  a  terrible  time  it  was  for 
the  hopes  of  America!  In  1776  he  had  an  army  of  47,000  men, 
and  the  nation  was  exhausted  by  the  great  effort.  In  1777  it  was 
less  than  20,000  men.  Women  who  had  once  melted  their  pewter 
plates  into  bullets,  could  not  do  it  a  second  time. 

At  Valley  Forge,  within  a  day's  march  of  the  enemy's  headquar- 
ters, there  were  not  12,000  soldiers.  That  winter  they  lay  on  the 
ground.  So  scarce  were  blankets  that  many  were  forced  to  sit  up 
all  night  by  their  fires.  At  one  time,  more  than  a  thousand  sol- 
diers had  not  a  shoe  to  their  feet.  You  could  trace  their  march  by 
the  blood  which  their  naked  feet  left  in  the  ice.  At  one  time,  more 
than  one-fourth  of  all  the  troops  there  are  reported  as  "  unfit  for 
duty,  because  barefoot  or  otherwise  naked."  "Washington  offered 
a  prize  for  the  best  substitute  for  shoes  made  of  untanned  hides! 

Even  provisions  failed.  Once  there  wtis  a  famine  in  the  camp, 
and  Washington  must  seize  provisions  by  violence,  or  the  army 
would  die.  He  ordered  the  Pennsylvania  farmers  to  thresh  out  the 
wheat  and  sell  it  to  him,  or  he  would  take  it  and  pay  them  only  for 
the  straw.  Congress  was  disheartened.  The  men  of  ability  stayed 
at  home,  and  weaklings  took  their  place.  For  some  time  there 
were  only  21  members,  and  it  was  difficult  to  assemble  a  quorum 
of  states  for  business. 

Tories  abounded.  There  were  cabals  against  Washington  in  the 
army.  Mifflin,  Conway,  Gates,  Pickering,  Schuyler,  were  hostile, 
and  they  found  abundant  support  in  Congress.  Samuel  Adams  dis- 
trusted Washington.  So,  too,  did  John  Adams.  James  Lovell, 
of  Massachusetts,  and  Richard  Henry  Lee,  of  Virginia,  were  not 


AND   RECITATIONS.  115 

more  friendly,  and  far  less  honorable.  It  is  not  wholly  to  be 
wondered  at. 

Within  a  year,  Washington  had  lost  New  York  and  its  neigh- 
borhood— lost  Philadelphia  and  all  the  strongholds  around  it.  He 
had  gained  but  one  victory  worth  naming,  that  at  Trenton.  In 
the  mean  time,  Burgoyne,  an  able  soldier,  with  an  admirable  army, 
liad  walked  into  a  trap  on  the  North  River,  and  had  been  taken  by 
Grates  and  the  northern  army,  who  were  most  of  them  militia  of 
New  England.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  men  doubted,  and  thought 
;hat  the  selfish,  mean-spirited,  and  loud-talking  General  Conway 
vould  do  better  than  the  modest  Washington  to  command  the  army. 

Samuel  Adams  wanted  democratic  rotation  in  office,  that  the 
general  should  be  hired  by  the  year!  If  he  had  not  been  possessed 
)f  great  wealth,  and  cared  for  nothing,  I  think  Washington's  com- 
mand had  come  to  an  end  before  1778.  But  Dr.  Franklin  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  sea ;  and,  with  consummate  art,  he  had  induced 
the  French  court  to  favor  America  with  contributions  of  money 
Mid  of  arms,  and,  after  the  surrender  of  Burgoyne,  to  acknowledge 
the  independence  of  the  United  States,  and  to  make  an  open  treaty 
if  alliance,  furnishing  America  with  money  and  men,  artillery  and 
stores. 

Then,  first,  America  began  to  uplift  her  drooping  head. 


WOMEN   OF  THE  REVOLUTION. 


MAKY   E.    BLAKE. 


HEART  of  the  patriot  touched  by  Freedom's  kindling  breath, 
Pouring  its  burning  words  from  lips  by  passion  fired ! 
>>word  of  the  soldier  drawn  in  the  awful  face  of  death ! 

Bounteous  pen  of  the  scholar  tracing  its  theme  inspired ! 
iiVealth  of  the  rich  man's  coffers,  help  of  the  poor  man's  dole! 

Strength  of  the  sturdy  arm  and  might  of  the  statesman's  fame, 
Chese  be  fit  themes  for  praise,  in  days  that  tried  the  soul, 
But  where  in  the  list  is  room  for  mention  of  woman's  name? 


116  WERNER'S   READINGS 

For  hers  are  the  virtues  cast  in  finer  and  gentler  mould ; 

In  quiet  and  peaceful  paths  her  nature  finds  its  scope. 
Stronger  in  loving  than  hating,  fond  where  the  man  is  bold, 

She  works  with  the  tools  of  patience  and  wonderful  gifts  of  hope. 
Nay!     When  the  man  is  called  the  woman  must  swiftly  rise, 

Ready  to  strengthen  and  bless,  ready  to  follow  or  wait ; 
Eeady  to  crush  in  her  heart  the  anguish  of  tears  and  sighs, 

Beading  the  message  of  God  in  the  blind  decrees  of  fate ! 

So,  in  days  of  the  past,  when  Liberty  raised  her  voice, 

Weak  as  a  new-born  babe  in  the  cradle  who  wakes  and  calls, 
And  the  tremulous  accents  ran  through  the  beautiful  land  of  her  j 
choice — 

As  into  the  heart  of  the  mother  the  cry  of  her  infant  falls — 
So  did  hand  of  the  woman  reach  to  hand  of  the  man, 

Helping  with  comfort  and  love,  steeling  his  own  for  the  strife; 
Till  the  calm  of  her  steadfast  soul  through  his  wavering  pulses  ran, 

And  the  blow  of  the  husband's  arm  was  nerved  from  the  heart  of 
the  wife. 

Wearing  a  homespun  gown,  or  ruling  with  easy  sway 

The  world  of  fashion  and  pride,  gilded  by  fortune's  sun, 
Eich  or  poor,  who  asks,  as  we  read  the  record  of  to-day? 

Lowly  or  great,  who  cares  how  the  poor  distinctions  run?     . 
Hallowed  be  every  name  in  the  roll  of  honor  and  fame, 

Since  on  hearthstone  and  field  they  kindled  the  sacred  fire, 
Since  with  fostering  breath  they  nurtured  liberty's  name, 

And  set  it  aloft  on  the  heights  to  which  heroes'  feet  aspire. 

Molly  of  Monmouth,  staunch  in  the  place  of  her  fallen  brave, 
Drowning  the  cry  of  defeat  in  the  lusty  roar  of  her  gun ; 

Rebecca,  the  Lady  of  Buckhead,  who,  eager  for  freedom,  gave 
Home  of  her  heart  to  the  burning,  and  smiled  when  the  work 
was  done; 

Abigail  Adams  of  Quincy,  noble  of  soul  and  race, 
Reader  of  men  and  books,  wi elder  of  distaff  and  pen; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  117 

Martha  Wilson  of  Jersey,  moving  with  courtly  grace; 
Deborah  Samson,  fighting  side  by  side  with  the  men; 

Frances  Allen,  the  Tory,  choosing  the  better  part, 

Led  by  Ethan,  the  daring,  to  follow  his  glorious  way; 
Elizabeth  Zane  of  Wheeling,  timid,  yet  brave  of  heart, 

Bearing  her  burden  of  powder  through  smoke  and  flame  of  the 
fray! 
Each,  on  the  endless  list,  through  length  and  breadth  of  the  land, 

Winning  her  deathless  place  on  the  golden  scroll  of  time, 
Fair  as  in  old  Greek  days  the  women  of  Sparta  stand, 

Linked  with  the  heroes'  fame  and  sharing  their  deeds  sublime. 

Plain  of  speech  and  of  dress,  as  fitted  their  age  and  place, 

Meet  companions  for  men  of  sterner  creed  and  fame ; 
Yet  knowing  the  worth  of  a  word,  and  fair  with  the  old-time  grace, 

That  perfumes  like  breath  of  a  flower  the  page  that  holds  their 
name. 
Honor  they  taught,  and  right,  and  noble  courage  of  truth, 

Strength  to  suffer  and  bear  in  holy  liberty's  need; 
Framing  through  turbulent  years  and  fiery  season  of  youth, 

Soul  for  the  valor  of  thought,  hand  for  the  valor  of  deed. 

Well  that  with  praise  of  the  brave,  song  of  their  triumph  should 
blend! 
Well  that  in  joy  of  the  land  fame  of  their  glory  find  part! 
For  theirs  is  the  tone  of  the  chord  that  holds  its  full  strength  to 
the  end, 
When  music  that  dies  on  the  ear  still  lingers  and  sings  in  the 
heart. 
I  Letter  and  word  may  die,  but  still  the  spirit  survives, 
Rounding  in  ages  unborn  each  frail,  distorted  plan ; 
And  fittest  survival  is  that  when  souls  of  mothers  and  wives 
Bloom  in  immortal  deeds  through  life  of  child  and  of  man. 


118  WERNER'S   READINGS 


THE   FIFER  AND   DRUMMER  OF  SCITUATE. 


S.    H.    PALFREY. 


[A  true  incident  of  the  war  of  1812.] 

<  <    A    BBY,  Abby,  they're  a-comin' !" 

f\  "Who's  a-comin'?     What's  to  do?" 

"Oh,  the  British!  an'  there  ain't  a  soul  to  home  but  me  an'  you. 
Job's  gone  courtin',  Noah's  a-fishin',  all  the  neighbors  be  afar; 
Peek;  they're  two  great  boat-loads  rowiu'  for  our  flour-ships  at  the 

bar. 
When  they've  took  'em,  what's  to  bender?  don't  you  s'pose  they'll 

come  right  down, 
Pike  an'  gun  an'   blood  an'  murder  here,    an'   rob  an'  burn  the 

town?  " 

"No,  I  don't,  not  ef  I'm  spared — an'   don't  you  have  a  chicken 

heart. 
Le'  me  think,  an'  then  I'll  tell  ye;  then  we  both  must  play  our 

part. 
Becky,  all  we've  ever  got  ter  miud  is,  jest  ter  do  our  best; 
When  that's  done,  we  never  need  ter  fear  ter  leave  ter  God  the  rest. 
Nobody  can't  die  but  once;  an'  ef  our  own  turn  comes  to-day, 
Let  it  find  us  at  our  dooty,  an'  then  find  us  when  it  may. 
Though  their  swellin'  hearts  be  mighty — though  each  comes  like 

ten  times  ten — 
Say  your  prayers,  an'  jest  remem1  er  Englishmen  ain't  naught  but 

men. 
I'll  run  round  an'  lock  the  house  up,  an'  you  scamper  for  your  life 
Up  the  garret  stairs,  an'  fetch  us,  to  the  barn,  the  drum  an'  fife, 
Make  believe  we're  the  milishy  comin'.     Girls  be  good  as  boys 
For  some  things — folks  needn't  tell  me — jest  as  good  ter  make  a 

noise." 


AND   RECITATIONS.  119 

Becky  scampers.     Abby  makes  fast  door  and  window  breathlessly, 
In  her  hurry  puts  the  kitten  in  her  pocket  with  the  key, 
Calls  the  dog,  and  drives  the  cow  in  from  her  grazing  in  the  croft 
To  her  stall,  and,  dragging  Becky,  scrambles  up  into  the  loft, 
Opens  wide  the  great  barn  window,  seizes  on  her  father's  drum, 
Cries,  "  You  keep  the  fife,  dear  Becky — that's  right — sound  like 

kingdom  come! 
Thiuk  you've  got  the  trump  that  Gideon  blew  against  the  heathen 

host, 
When  the  Lord's  sword  conquered  Midian,  an'  their  princes'  heads 

were  lost. 
Won't  the  British  lose  their  heads,    too?     Mebbe,  ef  we  keep  our 

own." 
'While  she  chatters,  she  is  drumming,  till  the  grumbling  roof  doth 

groan. 

"Yankee  Doodle,"  "Hail,  Columbia,"  pealed  with  many  a  deafen- 
ing bout; 
I  Like  a  cherub's  on  a  tombstone,  Becky's  dimpled  cheeks  puffed  out, 
i  Abby's  hazel  eyes  flashed  lightning,  as  her  rapid  stick  she  plied, 
'Marching  still,  and  counter-marching,  to  and  fro,  from  side  to  side — 
"O'er  the  soft  gray  hills  and  valleys  of  the  clover-scented  hay, 

Sounding  like  an  army  coming  up  and  down  from  far  away, 
,'Now  through  rich  brown  shadows  went  they — lively,  lovely  Yankee 
girls — 

Now  an  elm  let  stealthy  sunlight  in  on  fair  and  chestnut  curls. 
I  Fifing,  drumming,  panting,  stumbling,  half  in  fear  and  half  in  fun, 
"When  they  dared  to  reconnoitre,  then  they  saw  the  British  run. 

"Now  'The  Rogue's  March,'  little  sister — louder,   louder!  let  us 
play 

One  more  pooty  piece  o'  music  jest  ter  speed  'em  on  their  way." 

When  the  sunset's  gold  and  amber,  wrought  upon  the  cobwebbed 

gloom 
Of  the  straw-hung  old  barn-chamber,    made  it  seem  a  tapestried 

room, 


120  WERNER'S   READINGS 

And  their  townsmen  came,  each  rafter  o'er  each  little  merry  head, 
Eang  with  peals  of  girlish  laughter  as  the  pair  looked  down  and 

said: 
"Brother,  father,  uncle,  welcome;  but  a  little  late  you've  come! 
Now  the  flour-ships  would  be  taken  but  for  us,  an'  fife  an'  drum." 

Straight  men  knew  the  situation,  ran  the  rescued  ships  to  see, 
Thronged  the    barnyard  then,   and,   shouting,   gave    the   damsels 

"  three  times  three !" 
Wild  with  mirth;  and  ever  after,  oft  as  general  training-day 
Called  the  gallant  lads  of  Scituate  from  the  scythe  and  forge  away, 
'Neath  the  farmhouse'  sunset  windows,  fife  and  drum  were  duly 

played 
To  those  gallant  maids  of  Scituate,  in  memorial  serenade. 


CAPTAIN   MOLLY  AT   MONMOUTH. 


WILLIAM    COLLINS. 


[At  the  opening  of  the  campaign  in  1778,  Gen.  William  Howe  went 
to  England,  and  Gen.  Sir  Henry  Clinton  succeeded  him  as  commander-in- 
chief.  It  was  determined  by  the  British  to  concentrate  their  forces  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  and  for  this  purpose  the  royal  army  left  Phila- 
delphia in  June  and  crossed  the  Delaware.  Gen.  Washington,  penetrat- 
ing their  design,  attempted  to  interrupt  their  progress.  The  two  armies 
met  on  the  28th  of  June,  near  Monmouth  Court  House,  N.  J.  The  British 
troops  were  defeated  and  remained  inactive  during  the  summer.] 


ON  the  bloody  field  of  Monmouth  flashed  the  guns  of  Greene 
and  Wayne; 
Fiercely  roared  the  tide  of  battle,  thick  the  sward  was  heaped  with 

slain. 
Foremost,  facing  death  and  danger,  Hessian  horse  and  grenadier, 
In  the  vanguard,  fiercely  fighting,  stood  an  Irish  cannoneer. 

Loudly  roared  his  iron  cannon,  mingling  ever  in  the  strife, 
And  beside  him,  firm  and  daring,  stood  his  faithful  Irish  wife; 
Of  her  bold  contempt  of  danger,  Greene  and  Lee's  brigade  could  tell, 
Every  one  knew  "  Captain  Molly,"  and  the  army  loved  her  well. 


AND    RECITATIONS.  121 

Surged  the  roar  of  battle  round  them,  swiftly  flew  the  iron  hail; 
Forward  dashed  a  thousand  bayonets  that  lone  battery  to  assail; 
From  the  foeman's  foremost  columns  swept  a  furious  fusilade, 
Mowing   down  the   massed  battalions   in   the   ranks  of   Greene's 
brigade. 

Fast  and  faster  worked  the  gunner,  soiled  with  powder,  blood,  and 

dust ; 
English  bayonets  shone  before  him,  shot  and  shell  around  him 

burst ; 
Still  he  fought  with  reckless  daring,  stood  and  manned  her  long 

and  well, 
Till  at  last  the  gallant  fellow  dead  beside  his  cannon  fell. 

With  a  bitter  cry  of  sorrow,  and  a  dark  and  angry  frown, 
Looked  that  band  of  gallant  patriots  at  their  gunner  stricken  down. 
"Fall  back,  comrades!     It  is  folly  thus  to  strive  against  the  foe." 
"No,  not  so!  "  cried  Irish  Molly,  "  we  can  strike  another  blow!  " 

Quickly  leaped  she  to  the  cannon  in  her  fallen  husband's  place, 
Sponged  and  rammed  it  fast  and  steady,  fired  it  in  the  foeman's  face. 
Flashed  another  ringing  volley,  roared  another  from  the  gun ; 
"  Boys,  hurrah !  "  cried  gallant  Molly,  "  for  the  flag  of  Washington !  " 

Greene's  brigade,  though  shorn  and  shattered,  slain  and  bleeding 

half  their  men, 
When  they  heard  that  Irish  slogan,  turned  and  charged  the  foe 

again ; 
Knox  and  Wayne  and  Morgan  rally,  to  the  front  they  forward  wheel, 
And  before  their  rushing  onset  Clinton's  English  columns  reel. 

Still  the  cannon's  voice  in  anger  rolled  and  rattled  o'er  the  plain, 
Till  there  lay  in  swarms  around  it  mangled  heaps  of  Hessian  slain. 
"Forward!    charge  them  with  the  bayonet!"   'twas  the  voice  of 

Washington; 
ind  there  burst  a  fiery  greeting  from  the  Irishwoman's  gun. 


122  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Monckton  falls;  against  his  columns  leap  the  troops  of  Wayne  and 

Lee, 
And  before  their  reeking  bayonets  Clinton's  red  battalions  flee; 
Morgan's  rifles,  fiercely  flashing,  thin  the  foe's  retreating  ranks, 
And  behind  them,  onward  dashing,  Ogden  hovers  on  their  flanks. 

Fast  they  fly,  those  boasting  Britons,  who  in  all  their  glory  came, 
With  their  brutal  Hessian  hirelings  to  wipe  out  our  country's  name. 
Proudly  floats  the  starry  banner;  Monmouth's  glorious  field  is  won; 
And,  in  triumph,  Irish  Molly  stands  beside  her  smoking  gun. 


SOLILOQUY  OF  ARNOLD. 


EDWARD    C.    JONES. 


THE  plan  is  fixed;  I  fluctuate  no  more 
Betwixt  despair  and  hope.     As  leaves  the  shore 
The  hardy  mariner,  though  adverse  fate 
May  merge  his  bark,  or  cast  him  desolate 
Upon  a  savage  coast,  so,  wrought  at  last 
Up  to  a  frenzied  purpose,  I  have  passed 
The  Kubicon.     Farewell  my  old  renown! 
Here  I  breathe  mildew  on  my  warrior  csown; 
Here  honor  parts  from  me,  and  base  deceit 
Steps  to  the  usurper's  throne;  I  cannot  meet 
The  withering  censure  of  the  rebel  band, 
And,  therefore,  to  the  strong  I  yield  this  heart  and  hand. 

What  else  befits  me?     I  have  misapplied 
The  nation's  funds  and  ever  gratified 
Each  vaulting  wish,  though  justice  wept  the  deed; 
And  here,  beneath  the  load  of  pressing  need, 
I  must  have  gold.     How  else  the  clamorous  cry 
Of  creditors  appease,  and  satisfy 


AND  RECITATIONS.  123 

Demands  which  haunt  me  more  than  dreams  of  blood 
And  claims  which  chill  more  than  Canadian  flood? 
Stay?     My  accounts  betray  the  swindler's  mark. 
Go?  And  my  path,  though  smooth,  like  Tartarus  is  dark. 

These  rocky  ridges,  how  they  shelve  on  high, 
Each  a  stern  sentinel  in  majesty. 
Yes,  'tis  your  own  Gibraltar,  Washington! 
And  must  the  stronghold  of  his  hope  be  won? 
Won?     Twenty  thousand  scarcely  could  invest 
That  sure  defence,  which  o'er  the  river's  breast 
Casts  a  gigantic  shadow;  but  my  plan 
Dispenses  with  the  formidable  van, 
And  Clinton  may  my  garrison  surprise, 
With  few  sulphurous  clouds  to  blot  these  azure  skies. 

And  yet  a  pang  comes  over  me — I  see 
Myself  at  Saratoga;  full  and  free 
Goes  up  the  peal  of  noble-hearted  men; 
Among  the  wounded  am  I  numbered  then, 
And  my  outgushing  feelings  cling  to  those 
Who  periled  all  to  face  their  country's  foes. 
Ah!  when  that  wound  a  soldier's  pride  increased, 
And  gratulation  scarce  its  pasan  ceased, 
I  thought  not  then,  oh,  God!  the  stamp  of  shame 
Would  stand  imprinted  thus  upon  my  hard-earned  fame. 

Avaunt,  compunction !     Conscience,  to  the  wind ! 
Gold,  gold  I  need — gold  must  Sir  Henry  find  I 
A  rankling  grudge  is  mine,  for  why  not  I 
Commander  of  their  forces?     To  the  sky 
Ever  goes  up  the  peal  for  Washington. 
Is  he  a  god,  Virginia's  favored  son? 
Why  should  the  incense  fume  forevermore? 
Must  he  my  skill,  my  prowess,  shadow  o'er? 


124  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Ere  this  autumnal  moon  has  filled  its  horn, 

His  honors  must  be  nipped,  his  rising  glories  shorn. 

Ah!  he  securely  rests  upon  my  faith — 
Securely,  when  the  spectre  dims  his  path ! 
How  unsuspecting  has  he  ever  been; 
Above  the  false,  the  sinister,  the  mean! 
But  hold  such  eulogy — I  will  not  praise; 
Mine  is  the  task  to  tarnish  all  his  bays. 
West  Point,  thy  rocky  ridges  seem  to  say, 
Be  firm  as  granite,  crown  the  work  to-day, 
Blot  Saratoga,  hearth  and  home  adjure, 
Andre  I  meet  again — the  gold  I  must  secure. 


THE   BATTLE  OF  THE  COWPENS. 


THOMAS    DUNK    ENGLISH. 


[In  the  autumn  of  1780,  Gen.  Nathaniel  Greene  was  appointed  to  the 
chief  command  of  the  American  Southern  army.  The  first  action  was 
fought  at  the  Cowpens,  where  the  English  were  defeated,  losing  over 
800  men,  while  the  Americans  lost  only  72.  ] 


TO  the  Cowpens  riding  proudly,  boasting  loudly,  rebels  scorning, 
Tarleton  hurried,  hot  and  eager  for  the  fight; 
From  the  Cowpens,  sore  confounded,  on  that  January  morning, 
Tarleton  hurried  somewhat  faster,  fain  to  save  himself  by  flight. 

In  the  morn  he  scorned  us  rarely,  but  he  fairly  found  his  error, 
When  his  force  was  made  our  ready  blows  to  feel ; 

When  his  horsemen  and  his  footmen  fled  in  wild  and  pallid  terror 
At  the  leaping  of  our  bullets,  and  the  sweeping  of  our  steel. 

All  the  day  before  we  fled  them,  and  we  led  them  to  pursue  us, 
Then  at  night  on  Thicketty  Mountain  made  our  camp; 

There  we  lay  upon  our  rifles,  slumber  quickly  coming  to  us, 

Spite  the  crackling  of  our  camp-fires,  and  our  sentries'  heavy 
tramp. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  125 

Morning  on  the  mountain  border  ranged  in  order  found  our  forces, 
Ere  our  scouts  announced  the  coming  of  the  foe; 

While  the  hoar-frost  lying  near  us,  and  the  distant  water  courses, 
Gleamed  like  silver  in  the  sunlight,  seemed  like  silver  in  the 
glow. 

Morgan  ranged  us  there  to  meet  them,  and  to   greet  them  with 
such  favor 

That  they  scarce  would  care  to  follow  us  again; 
In  the  rear,  the  Continentals — none  were  readier  nor  braver; 

In  the  van  with  ready  rifles,  steady,  stern,  our  mountain  men. 

Washington,  our  trooper  peerless,  gay  and  fearless,  with  his  forces 

Waiting  panther-like  upon  the  foe  to  fall, 
Formed  upon  the  slope  behind  us,  where,  on  raw-boned  country 
horses, 
Sat   the   sudden-summoned   levies    brought    from   Georgia    by 
McCall. 

Soon  we  heard  a  distant  drumming,  near  coming,  slow  advancing — 

It  was  then  upon  the  very  nick  of  nine — 
Soon   upon   the   road  from   Spartanburg   we  saw   their  bayonets 
glancing, 

And  the  moving  sunlight  playing  on  their  swaying  scarlet  line. 

In  the  distance  seen  so  dimly,  they  looked  grimly — coming  nearer 

There  was  naught  about  them  fearful  after  all, 
Until  some  one  near  me  spoke  in  voice  than  falling  water  clearer, 

"Tarleton's  quarter  is  the  sword-blade — Tarleton's  mercy  is  the 
ball." 

Then  the  memory  came  unto  me,  heavy,  gloomy,  of  my  brother 
Who  was  slain  while  asking  quarter  at  their  hand ; 

Of  that  morning  when  was  driven  forth  my  sister  and  my  mother 
From  our  cabin  in  the  valley  by  the  spoilers  of  the  land. 


126  WERNER'S  READINGS 

I  remembered  of  my  brother  slain,  my  mother  spurned  and  beaten, 

Of  my  sister  in  her  beauty  brought  to  shame; 
Of  the  wretches'  jeers  and  laughter,  as  from  mud-sill  up  to  rafter, 

Of  the  stripped  and  plundered  cabin,  leaped  the  fierce,  consuming 
flame. 

But  that  memory  had  no  power  there  in  that  hour  to  depress  me — 

No!  it  stirred  within  my  spirit  fiercer  ire; 
And  I  gripped  my  sword-hilt  firmer,  and  my  arm  and  heart  grew 
stronger, 

And  I  longed  to  meet  the  wronger  on  the  sea  of  steel  and  fire. 

On  they  came,   our  might  disdaining,  when  the  raining  bullets 
leaden 
Pattered  fast  from  scattered  rifles  on  each  wing; 
Here  and  there  went  down  a  foeman,  and  the  ground  began  to 
redden ; 
And  they  drew  them  back  a  moment,  like  the  tiger  ere  his  spring. 

Then  said  Morgan,  "  Ball  and  powder  kill  much  prouder  men  than 
Georgia's — 
On  your  rifles  and  a  careful  aim  rely ; 
They  were  trained  in  many  battles,  we  in  work -shops,  fields  and 
forges ; 
But  we  have  our  homes  to  fight  for,  and  we  do  not  fear  to  die." 

Though  our  leader's  words  we  cheered  not,  yet  we  feared  not;  we 
awaited, 
Strong  of  heart,  the  threatened  onset,  and  it  came ; 
Up  the  sloping  hillside  swiftly  rushed  the  foe  so  fiercely  hated; 
On  they  came  with  gleaming  bayonet,  'mid  the  cannon's  smoke 
and  flame. 

At  their  head  rode  Tarleton  proudly — ringing  loudly  o'er  the  yelling 
Of  his  men  who  heard  his  voice's  brazen  tone — 


AND   RECITATIONS.  127 

With  his  dark  eyes  flashing  fiercely,  and  his  sombre  features  telling 
In  their  look  the  pride  that  filled  him  as  the  champion  of  the 
throne. 

On  they  pressed,  when  sudden  flashing,  ringing,  crashing  came 
the  firing 

Of  our  forward  line  upon  their  close-set  ranks; 
Then  at  coming  of  their  steel,  which  moved  with  steadiness  untiring, 

Fled  our  mountaineerSj  reforming  in  good  order  on  our  flanks. 

Then  the  combat's  raging  anger,  din  and  clangor,  round  and  o'er 
us, 
Filled  the  forest,  stirred  the  air  and  shook  the  ground ; 
Charged   with  thunder  tramp  the   horsemen,  while   their  sabres 
shone  before  us, 
Gleaming  lightly,  streaming  brightly  through  the  smoking  cloud 
around. 

Through  the  pines  and  oaks  resounding,  madly  bounding  from  the 
mountain, 

Leaped  the  rattle  of  the  battle  and  the  roar; 
Fierce  the  hand-to-hand  engaging,  and  the  human  freshet  raging 

Of  the  surging  current  urging  past  a  dark  and  bloody  shore. 

Soon  the  course  of  fight  was  altered ;  soon  they  faltered  at  the  leaden 
Storm  that  smote  them,  and  we  saw  their  centre  swerve; 

Tarleton's  eye  flashed  fierce  in  anger;  Tarleton's  face  began  to 
redden ; 
Tarleton  gave  the  closing  order — "  Bring  to  action  the  reserve!  " 

.Up  the  slope  his  legion  thundered,  full  three    hundred,  fiercely 
spurring, 
Cheering  lustily  they  fell  upon  our  flanks ; 
And  their  worn  and  wearied  comrades,   at  the  sound  so  spirit- 
stirring 
Felt  a  thrill  of  hope  and  courage  pass  along  their  shattered  ranks. 


128  WERNER'S  READINGS 

By  the  wind  the  smoke-cloud  lifted  lightly,  drifted  to  the  nor'ward, 

And  displayed  in  all  their  pride  the  scarlet  foe; 
We  beheld  them  with  a  steady  tramp  and  fearless,  moving  forward 

With  their  banners  proudly  waving,  and  their  bayonets  levelled 
low. 

Morgan  gave  his  order  clearly,  "  Fall  back  nearly  to  the  border 

Of  the  hill,  and  let  the  enemy  come  nigher!  " 
Oh !  they  thought  we  had  retreated,  and  they  charged  in  fierce 
disorder, 
When  out  rang  the  voice  of  Howard,  "  To  the  right  about,  face! 
Fire!" 

Then  upon  our  very  wheeling  came  the  pealing  of  our  volley, 
And  our  balls  made  red  a  pathway  down  the  hill; 

Broke  the  foe,  and  shrank  and  cowered ;  rang  again  the  voice  of 
Howard, 
"  Give  the  hireling  dogs  the  bayonet!  "  and  we  did  it  with  a  will. 

In  the  meanwhile,  one  red-coated  troop,  unuoted,  riding  faster 

Than  their  comrades  on  our  rear  in  fury  bore ; 
But  the  light-horse  led  by  Washington  soon  brought  it  to  disaster, 

For  they  shattered  it  and  scattered  it,  and  smote  it  fast  and  sore. 

Like  a  herd  of  startled  cattle  from  the  battlefield  we  drove  them ; 

In  disorder  down  the  Mill-gap  road  they  fled ; 
Tarleton  led  them  in  the  racing,  fast  he  fled  before  our  chasing, 

And  he  stopped  not  for  the  dying,  and  he  staid  not  for  the  dead. 

Down  the  Mill-gap  road  they  scurried  and  they  hurried  with  such 
fleetness — 
We  had  never  seen  such  running  in  our  lives! 
Ran  they  swifter  than  if  seeking  homes  to  taste  domestic  sweetness, 
Having  many  years  been  parted  from  their  children  and  their 
wives. 


AND  RECITATIONS.  129 

In  their  midst  I  saw  one  trooper,  and  around  his  waist  I  noted 

Tied  a  simple  silken  scarf  of  blue  and  white; 
When  my  vision  grasped  it  clearly,  to  my  hatred  I  devoted 

Him,  from  all  the  hireling  wretches  who  were  mingled  there  in 
flight. 

For  that  token  in  the  summer  had  been  from  our  cabin  taken 

By  the  robber-hands  of  wrongers  of  my  kin; 
'Twas  my  sister's — for  the  moment  things  around  me  were  for- 
saken— 

I  was  blind  to  fleeing  foeman,  I  was  deaf  to  battle's  din. 

Olden  comrades  round  me  lying  dead  or  dying  were  unheeded — 
Vain  to  me  they  looked  for  succor  in  their  need; 

O'er  the  corses  of  the  soldiers,  through  the  gory  pools  I  speeded, 
Driving  rowel-deep  my  spurs  within  my  madly-bounding  steed. 

As  I  came  he  turned,  and  staring  at  my  glaring  eyes  he  shivered; 

Pallid  fear  went  quickly  o'er  his  features  grim; 
As  he   grasped   his    sword   in   terror,    every   nerve   within   him 
quivered — 

For  his  guilty  spirit  told  him  why  I  solely  sought  for  him. 

Though  the  stroke  I  dealt  he  parried,  onward  carried,  down  I  bore 
him — 
Horse  and  rider — down  together  went  the  twain: 
"Quarter!" — He!  that  scarf  had  doomed  him!     Stood  a  son  and 

brother  o'er  him, 
I     Down  through  plume  and  brass  and  leather  went  my  sabre  to  the 
brain — 
Never  music  like  that  crashing  through  the  skull-bone  to  the 
brain. 
9 


130  .    WERNER'S   READINGS 


MARION'S   DINNER. 


EDWARD    C.    JONES. 


[A  British  officer,  sent  to  negotiate  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  was  con- 
ducted into  Marion's  encampment.  There  the  scene  took  place  which  is 
here  commemorated.  The  young  officer  was  so  deeply  affected  by  the  sen- 
timents of  Marion,  that  he  subsequently  resigned  his  commission  and  re- 
tired from  the  British  service.] 


THEY  sat  on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  pine, 
And  their  plate  was  a  piece  of  bark, 
And  the  sweet  potatoes  were  superfine, 
Though  bearing  the  embers'  mark; 
But  Tom,  with  the  sleeve  of  his  cotton  shirt, 

The  embers  had  brushed  away, 
And  then  to  the  brook,  with  a  step  alert, 
He  hied  on  that  gala  day. 

The  British  officer  tried  to  eat, 

But  his  nerves  were  out  of  tune, 
And  ill  at  ease  on  his  novel  seat, 

While  absent  both  knife  and  spoon, 
Said  he,  "  You  give  me  but  Lenten  fare, 

Is  the  table  thus  always  slim? 
Perhaps  with  a  Briton  you  will  not  share 

The  cup  with  a  flowing  brim!  " 

Then  Marion  put  his  potato  down, 

On  the  homely  plate  of  bark ; 
He  had  to  smile,  for  he  could  not  frown, 

While  gay  as  the  morning  lark : 
"  'Tis  a  royal  feast  I  provide  to-day; 

Upon  roots  we  rebels  dine, 
And  in  freedom's  service  we  draw  no  pay, 

Is  that  code  of  ethics  thine?  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  131 

Then,  with  flashing  eye  and  with  heaving  breast, 

He  looked  to  the  azure  sky, 
And,  said  he,  with  a  firm,  undaunted  crest, 

"  Our  trust  is  in  God  on  high ! 
The  hard,  hard  ground  is  a  downy  bed, 

And  hunger  its  fang  foregoes, 
And  noble  and  firm  is  the  soldier's  tread, 

In  the  face  of  his  country's  foes." 

The  officer  gazed  on  that  princely  brow, 

Where  valor  and  genius  shone, 
And  upon  that  fallen  pine  his  vow 

Went  up  to  his  Maker's  throne: 
"  I  will  draw  no  sword  against  men  like  these, 

It  would  drop  from  a  nerveless  hand ; 
And  the  very  blood  in  my  heart  would  freeze, 

If  I  faced  such  a  Spartan  band." 

From  Marion's  camp,  with  a  saddened  mien, 

He  hastened  with  awe  away, 
The  Sons  of  Anak  his  eyes  had  seen, 

And  a  giant  race  were  they. 
No  more  on  the  tented  field  was  he, 

And  rich  was  the  truth  he  learned, 
That  men  who  could  starve  for  liberty 

Can  neither  be  crushed,  nor  spurned. 


THE  FIELDS  OF  WAR. 


ISAAC    M'LELLAN,  JR. 


THEY  rise,  by  stream  and  yellow  shore, 
By  mountain,  moor,  and  fen; 
By  weedy  rock  and  torrent  hoar, 
And  lonesome  forest  glen ! 


132  WERNER'S   READINGS 

From  many  a  woody,  moss-grown  mound 

Start  forth  a  war-worn  band, 
As  when,  of  old,  they  caught  the  sound 
Of  hostile  arms,  and  closed  around 
To  guard  their  native  land. 

Hark !  to  the  clanging  horn ! 

Hark !  to  the  rolling  drum ! 
Arms  glitter  in  the  flash  of  morn — 

The  hosts  to  battle  come! 
The  serried  files,  the  plumed  troop, 

Are  marshalled  once  again, 
Along  the  Hudson's  mountain-group, 

Along  the  Atlantic  main! 

On  Bunker,  at  the  dead  of  night, 

I  seem  to  view  the  raging  fight, 

The  burning  town,  the  smoky  height, 

The  onset,  the  retreat ! 
And  down  the  banks  of  Brandywine 
I  see  the  levelled  bayonets  shine, 
And  lurid  clouds  of  battle  twine, 

Where  struggling  columns  meet. 

Yorktown  and  Trenton  blaze  once  more, 
And  by  the  Delaware's  frozen  shore 
The  hostile  guns  at  midnight  roar, 

The  hostile  shouts  arise; 
The  snows  of  Valley  Forge  grow  red, 
And  Saratoga's  field  is  spread 
"With  heaps  of  undistinguished  dead, 

And  filled  with  dying  cries! 

'Tis  o'er!     The  battle-shout  has  died 
By  ocean,  stream,  and  mountain-side, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  133 

And  the  bright  harvest,  far  and  wide, 

Waves  o'er  the  blood-drenched  field ; 
The  rank  grass  o'er  it  greenly  grows, 
And  oft  the  upturning  shares  disclose 
The  buried  arms  and  bones  of  those 

Who  fell,  but  would  not  yield ! 

Time's  rolling  chariot  hath  effaced 
The  very  hillocks,  where  they  placed 
The  bodies  of  the  dead  in  haste 

When  closed  the  furious  fight; 
The  ancient  fort  and  rampant  mound 
Long  since  have  settled  to  the  ground, 

On  Bunker's  famous  height; 
And  the  last  relics  of  the  brave 
Are  sinking  to  oblivion's  grave! 


AMERICA  TO   GREAT   BRITAIN. 


WASHINGTON"   ALLSTON. 


ALL  hail!  thou  noble  land, 
Our  fathers'  native  soil ! 
Oh,  stretch  thy  mighty  hand, 
Gigantic  grown  by  toil, 
O'er  the  vast  Atlantic  wave  to  our  shore; 
For  thou,  with  magic  might, 
Canst  reach  to  where  the  light 
Of  Phoebus  travels  bright 
The  world  o'er. 

The  genius  of  our  clime, 

From  his  pine-embattled  steep, 

Shall  hail  the  great  sublime; 
While  the  Tritons  of  the  deep, 


L34  WERNER'S   READINGS 

With  their  conches  the  kindred  league  shall  proclaim. 
Then  let  the  world  combine ! 
O'er  the  main  our  naval  line, 
Like  the  milky  way,  shall  shine 
Bright  in  fame! 

Though  ages  long  have  passed 

Since  our  fathers  left  their  home, 
Their  pilot  in  the  blast, 

O'er  untravelled  seas  to  roam,  j 

Yet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins; 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame, 
Which  no  tyranny  can  tame 
By  its  chains? 

While  the  language,  free  and  bold, 

Which  the  bard  of  Avon  sung, 
In  which  our  Milton  told 

How  the  vault  of  heaven  rung, 
When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  all  his  host; 
While  this,  with  reverence  meet, 
Ten  thousand  echoes  greet, 
From  rock  to  rock  repeat 
Bound  our  coast. 

While  the  manners,  while  the  arts, 

That  mould  a  nation's  soul, 
Still  cling  around  our  hearts, 
Between  let  ocean  roll, 
Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  sun; 
Yet  still,  from  either  beach 
The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach, 
More  audible  than  speech, 
"  We  are  one!  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  135 

WASHINGTON'S  FAREWELL  TO  HIS  ARMY. 


THE  chieftain  gazed  with  moistened  eyes  upon  the   veteran 
band, 
Who  with  him  braved  the  battle's  storm  for  God  and  native  land; 
At  last  the  parting  hour  had  come — from  prairie,  mount,  and  sea, 
The  glad  shout  burst  from  countless  hearts :     "  Our  land,  our  land 
is  free!  " 

Then  up  from  every  altar  rose  a  hymn  of  praise  to  God, 
Who  nerved  the  patriot  hearts  and  arms  to  free  their  native  sod; 
The  stormy  strife  of  grief  and  gloom,  of  blood  and  death,  was  o'er, 
The  heroes  who  survived  its  wrath  might  seek  their  homes  once 
more. 

With  bared  heads  bowed,  and  swelling  hearts,  they  gathered  round 

their  chief; 
The  parting  day  to  them  was  one  of  mingled  joy  and  grief; 
They  thought  of  all  his  love  and  care,  his  patience  sorely  tried, 
I  Of  how  he  shared  their  wants  and  woes,  and  with  them  death 

defied. 

They  looked  back  to  that  fearful  night  when,  'mid  the  storm,  he 

stood 
iBeside  the  icy  Delaware  to  guide  them  o'er  the  flood; 
Back  to  red  fields  where,  thick  as  leaves  upon  an  autumn  day, 
The  tawny  savage  warriors  and  British  foemen  lay. 

They  thought  of  many  a  cheerless  camp  where  lay  the  sick  and 

dead, 
(Whereof  that  stately  form  was  bent  o'er  many  a  sufferer's  bed; 
Well  had  he  won  the  deathless  love  of  all  that  patriot  band — 
ITheir  friend  and  guide,  their  nation's  hope,  the  savior  of  their  land. 

He,  too,  saw  all  they  had  endured  to  break  their  country's  chains, 
Their  naked  footprints  stamped  in  blood  on  Jersey's  frozen  plains; 


'36  WERNER'S   READINGS 

The  gloomy  huts  at  Valley  Forge,  where  winter's  icy  breath 
Froze  many  a  brave  heart's  crimson  flow,  chained  many  an  arm  in 
death. 

And,  looking  on  their  war-thinned  ranks,  he  sighed  for  those  who 

fell; 
It  stirred  the  depths  of  his  great  heart  to  say  the  word  "  Farewell!" 
He  saw  strong  men  who,  facing  death,  had  never  thought  of  fear, 
Dash    from    their  scarred  and   sun-browned    cheeks   the   quickly 

gushing  tear. 

He  stood  in  the  receding  boat,  his  noble  brow  laid  bare, 
And  the  wild  fingers  of  the  breeze  tossing  his  silv'ry  hair, 
While  to  his  trusty  followers,  the  sternly  tried  and  true, 
Whose  sad  eyes  watched  him  from  the  shore,  he  waved  a  last  adieu. 

Earth  shows  no  laureled  conqueror  so  truly  great  as  he 
Who  laid  the  sword  and  power  aside  when  once  his  land  was  free, 
Who  calmly  sought  his  quiet  home  when  freedom's  fight  was  won, 
While  with  one  voice  the  nation  cried:  "God  bless  our  Washing- 
ton! " 


PREDICTIONS    CONCERNING    THE     FOURTH 

OF  JULY. 


JOHN   ADAMS. 


HAD  a  Declaration  of  Independence  been  made  seven  months 
ago,  it  would  have  been  attended  with  many  great  and 
glorious  effects.  We  might,  before  this  hour,  have  formed  alliance 
with  foreign  states.  We  should  have  mastered  Quebec,  and  been 
in  possession  of  Canada. 

You  will,  perhaps,  wonder  how  such  a  declaration  would  have 
influenced  our  affairs  in  Canada;  but  if  I  could  speak  with  free- 
dom, I  could  easily  convince  you  that  it  would,  and  explain  to  you 
the  manner  how.     Many  gentlemen  in  high  stations  and  of  great 


AND   RECITATIONS.  137 

i 
influence  have  been  duped,  by  the  miDisterial  bubble  of  commis- 
sioners, to  treat;  and  in  real  sincere  expectation  of  this  event, 
which  they  so  fondly  wished,  they  have  been  slow  and  languid  in 
promoting  measures  for  the  reduction  of  that  province.  Others 
there  are  in  the  Colonies  who  really  wished  that  our  enterprise  in 
Canada  would  be  defeated,  that  the  Colonies  might  be  brought  into 
danger  and  distress  between  two  fires,  and  be  thus  induced  to  sub- 
mit. Others  really  wished  to  defeat  the  expedition  to  Canada,  lest 
the  conquest  of  it  should  elevate  the  minds  of  the  people  too  much 
to  hearken  to  those  terms  of  reconciliation  which  they  believed 
would  be  offered  to  us.  These  jarring  views,  wishes,  and  designs 
occasioned  an  opposition  to  many  salutary  measures  which  were 
proposed  for  the  support  of  that  expedition,  and  caused  obstruc- 
tions, embarrassments,  and  studied  delays  which  have  finally  lost 
us  the  province. 

All  these  causes,  however,  in  conjunction,  would  have  not  dis- 
appointed us,  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  misfortune  which  could  not 
have  been  foreseen,  and  perhaps  could  not  have  been  prevented. 
I  mean  the  prevalence  of  the  small-pox  among  our  troops.  This  fatal 
pestilence  completed  our  destruction.  It  is  a  frown  of  Providence 
upon  us,  which  we  ought  to  lay  to  heart. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  delay  of  this  declaration  to  this 
time  has  many  great  advantages  attending  it.  The  hopes  of  recon- 
ciliation which  were  fondly  entertained  by  multitudes  of  honest 
and  well-meaning,  though  short-sighted  and  mistaken,  people, 
have  been  gradually,  and  at  last  totally,  extinguished.  Time  has 
been  given  for  the  whole  people  maturely  to  consider  the  great 
question  of  independence,  and  to  ripen  their  judgment,  dissipate 
their  fears,  and  allure  their  hopes,  by  discussing  it  in  newspapers 
and  pamphlets,  by  debating  it  in  assemblies,  conventions,  commit- 
tees of  safety  and  inspection,  in  town  and  county  meetings,  as  well 
as  in  private  conversations;  so  that  the  whole  people,  in  every 
Colony,  have  now  adopted  it  as  their  own  act.  This  will  cement 
the  union,  and  avoid  those  heats,  and  perhaps  convulsions,  which 
might  have  been  occasioned  by  suoh  a  declaration  six  months  ago. 


138  WERNER'S   READINGS 

But  the  day  is  past.  The  second  day  of  July,  1776,  will  be  a 
memorable  epoch  in  the  history  of  America.  I  am  apt  to  believe 
that  it  will  be  celebrated  by  succeeding  generations,  as  the  great 
anniversary  festival.  It  ought  to  be  commemorated  as  the  day  of 
deliverance  by  solemn  acts  of  devotion  to  God  Almighty.  It  ought 
to  be  solemnized  with  pomp,  shows,  games,  sports,  guns,  bells, 
bonfires,  and  illuminations  from  one  end  of  the  continent  to  the 
other,  from  this  time  forward  forever. 

You  maj  think  me  transported  with  enthusiasm,  but  I  am  not. 
I  am  well  aware  of  the  toil  and  blood  and  treasure  that  it  will  cost 
us  to  maintain  this  declaration,  and  support  and  defend  these 
states.  Yet,  through  all  the  gloom,  I  can  see  the  rays  of  light  and 
glory.  I  can  see  that  the  end  is  more  than  worth  all  the  means, 
and  that  posterity  will  triumph,  although  you  and  I  may  rue — 
which  I  hope  we  shall  not. 

THE   SOUTH   IN   THE   REVOLUTION. 


EOBEET   YOUNG    HAYNE. 


IF  there  be  one  State  in  the  Union,  and  I  say  it  not  in  a  boast- 
ful spirit,  that  may  challenge  comparisons  with  any  other 
for  a  uniform,  zealous,  ardent,  and  uncalculating  devotion  to  the 
Union,  that  State  is  South  Carolina.  From  the  very  commence- 
ment of  the  Revolution,  up  to  this  hour,  there  is  no  sacrifice,  how- 
ever great,  she  has  not  cheerfully  made,  no  service  she  has  ever 
hesitated  to  perform.  She  has  adhered  to  you  in  your  prosperity ; 
but  in  }^our  adversity  she  has  clung  to  you  with  more  than  filial 
affection.  ISTo  matter  what  was  the  condition  of  her  domestic  affairs, 
though  deprived  of  her  resources,  divided  by  parties,  or  surrounded 
by  difficulties,  the  call  of  the  country  has  been  to  her  as  the  voice 
of  God.  Domestic  discord  ceased  at  the  sound ;  every  man  became 
at  once  reconciled  to  his  brethren,  and  the  sons  of  Carolina  were 
all  seen  crowding  together  to  the  temple,  bringing  their  gifts  to 
the  altar  of  their  common  country. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  139 

What  was  the  conduct  of  the  South  during  the  Eevolution?  I 
honor  New  England  for  her  conduct  in  that  glorious  struggle. 
But,  great  as  is  the  praise  which  belongs  to  her,  I  think  at  least 
equal  honor  is  due  to  the  South.  They  espoused  the  quarrel  of  their 
brethren  with  a  generous  zeal  which  did  not  suffer  them  to  stop  to 
calculate  their  interest  in  the  dispute./  Favorites  of  the  mother 
country,  possessed  of  neither  ships  nor  seamen  to  create  a  commercial 
rivalship,  they  might  have  found,  in  their  situation,  a  guarantee 
that  their  trade  would  be  forever  fostered  and  protected  by  Great 
Britain.  But  trampling  on  all  considerations,  either  of  interest  or 
of  safety,  they  rushed  into  the  conflict,  and,  fighting  for  principle, 
perilled,  all  in  the  sacred  cause  of  freedoms 

Never  was  there  exhibited  in  the  history  of  the  world  higher 
examples  of  noble  daring,  dreadful  suffering,  and  heroic  endurance 
than  by  the  Whigs  of  Carolina  during  the  Revolution!  The  whole 
state,  from  the  mountains  to  the  sea,  was  overrun  by  an  overwhelm- 
ing force  of  the  enemy.  The  fruits  of  industry  perished  on  the 
spot  where  they  were  produced,  or  were  consumed  by  the  foe.  The 
"plains  of  Carolina"  drank  up  the  most  precious  blood  of  her 
citizens.  Black  and  smoking  ruins  marked  the  places  which  had 
been  the  habitations  of  her  children.  Driven  from  their  homes 
into  the  gloomy  and  almost  impenetrable  swamps,  even  there  the 
spirit  of  liberty  survived,  and  South  Carolina,  sustained  by  the  ex- 
ample of  her  Sumters  and  her  Marions,  proved,  by  her  conduct, 
that,  though  her  soil  might  be  overrun,  the  spirit  of  her  people 
was  invincible. 


140  WERNER'S   READINGS 


Period  V  — WAR  OF  1812.— MEXICAN   WAR. 

1812 — 1849. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  SWORDS. 


ADELAIDE    C.    WALDRON. 


WHERE  the  sunset  glory  falls 
On  my  else  so  naked  walls, 
Crossed  with  a  blade  of  later  day 
Hangs  a  sword  that  far  away, 
When  the  world  was  in  its  youth, 
Fought  for  country,  love,  and  truth. 
Graven  in  strange  characters  on  the  gleaming  supple  steel, 
Sworn  by  son  to  sire  for  centuries  to  keep  through  woe  and  weal, 

Is  the  legend — 
"  Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 

Forth  it  sprang  in  righteous  wrath 

If  a  coward  crossed  its  path ; 

Out  it  leaped  like  a  tongue  of  flame 

If  a  light  word  with  the  name 

Of  a  woman  soiled  the  air ; 

On  it  flashed  through  dull  despair, 
As  through  sanguine  dream  of  victory,  at  the  bugle-call ; 
Whoso  held  it  sworn  forever  to  give  love  and  life  and  all 

For  the  legend — 
"  Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 

Now  it  hangeth  quietly, 
Jewels  shining  steadily 


AND   RECITATIONS.  141 

In  its  wonderful  war-worn  head, 

In  its  quaint  and  war-worn  head; 

And  their  beauty,  fine  and  true, 

Like  eternal  drops  of  dew, 
Casts  the  glamour  of  the  past  over  all  the  haunting  dreams 
Of  the  deadliness  that  sleepeth  there,  while  ever  brightly  gleams 

The  old  legend — 
"  Without  reason,  draw  me  not :  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not  " 

And  the  blade  of  later  time — 

Straight  and  plain,  unmarked  by  rhyme, 

Bearing  no  motto  old  and  quaint, 

Wearing  only,  in  letters  faint, 

Date  and  name,  and  with  no  gem 

Fit  for  kingly  diadem 
i  Glittering  in  its  slender  hilt — deserves  as  well  the  poet's  rhyme, 
And  the  clinging  crown  of  laurel,  as  the  sword  of  ancient  time, 

With  the  legend — • 
"  Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 

Synonym  for  grace  of  mien, 

And  for  virtues  rarely  seen, 

Is  the  old  untarnished  name 

Graven  on  this  blade ;  and  fame 

Dropped  a  wreath  of  immortelles — 

White  and  golden  immortelles — 
'•  On  the  head  that  Death  laid  low,  face  and  hand  against  the  foe, 
In  the  hand  this  sword  informed  with  the  spirit  and  the  glow 

Of  the  legend — 
'"  Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 

Heroes  many  live  and  die, 
WThom  fame's  trumpet  passes  by; 
Rough  of  speech,  uncouth,  unkempt, 
Of  world's  grace  they  never  dreamt: 


142  WERNER'S   READINGS 

But  within  a  homely  shell 

Perfect  pearls  perchance  may  dwell; 
Thus  these  homely  hearts  heroic,  in  the  hour  of  need  are  found 
Wanting  naught;   their   swords   are  guided,   though  they  never 
heard  its  sound, 

By  the  legend — 
"Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 

Swords  so  wielded  worthily 

May  be  crossed  with  these  you  see 

Hanging  now  so  quietly, 

Hanging  now  so  peacefully, 

Where  the  golden  glory  falls 

On  my  else  so  barren  walls: 
Jewelled  hilt  and  bending  blade,  or  the  straight  and  naked  steel, 
Each  is  precious  if  the  soul  that  impelleth  it  doth  feel 

The  old  legend — 
"Without  reason,  draw  me  not:  without  honor,  sheathe  me  not." 


THE   LOST  WAR-SLOOP. 

[The  Wasp,  1814.] 


EDNA    DEAN"    PROCTOR. 


[In  November,  1812,  the  British  sloop  Frolic  was  captured  by  the  sloop 
Wasp ;  but  the  Wasp  was  taken  immediately  after  by  the  Poictiers,  a 
British  seventy -four.] 


OH!  the  pride  of  Portsmouth  water, 
Toast  of  every  brimming  beaker — 
Eighteen  hundred  and  fourteen  on  land  and  sea- 
Was  the  Wasp,  the  gallant  war-sloop, 
Built  of  oaks  Kearsarge  had  guarded, 

Pines  of  Maine  to  lift  her  colors  high  and  free! 
Every  timber  scorning  cowards; 
Every  port  alert  for  foeman 


AND   RECITATIONS.  143 

Prom  the  masthead  seen  on  weather-side  or  lee ; 
"With  eleven  guns  to  starboard, 
And  eleven  guns  to  larboard, 

All  for  glory  on  a  morn  of  May  sailed  she. 

British  ships  were  in  the  offing; 

Swift  and  light  she  sped  between  them — 

Well  her  daring  crew  knew  shoal  and  wind  and  tide; 
They  had  come  from  Portsmouth  river, 
Sea-girt  Marblehead  and  Salem, 

Bays  and  islands  where  the  fisher-folk  abide; 
Come  for  love  of  home  and  country, 
Come  with  wrongs  that  cried  for  vengeance, 

Every  man  among  them  brave  and  true  and  tried. 
"  Hearts  of  oak  "  are  British  seamen? 
Hearts  of  fire  were  these,  their  kindred, 

Flaming  till  the  haughty  foe  should  be  descried ! 

From  the  mountains,  from  the  prairies 
Blew  the  west  winds  glad  to  waft  her — ■ 

xVh,  what  goodly  ships  before  her  guns  went  down! 
Ships  with  wealth  of  London  laden, 
Ships  with  treasures  of  the  Indies, 

Till  her  name  brought  fear  to  British  wharf  and  town; 
Till  the  war-sloops  Reindeer^  Avon 
To  her  valor  struck  their  colors, 

Making  coast  and  ocean  ring  with  her  renown: 
While  her  captain  cried  exultant, 
"  Britain,  to  the  bold  Bepublic, 

Of  the  empire  of  the  seas  shall  yield  the  crown! " 

1  Oh,  the  woful,  woful  ending 
Of  the  pride  of  Portsmouth  water! 

Never  more  to  harbor  nor  to  shore  came  she! 
Springs  returned  but  brought  no  tidings; 


144  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Mothers,  maidens,  broken-hearted 

Wept  the  gallant  lads  that  sailed  away  in  glee. 
Did  the  bolts  of  heaven  blast  her? 
Did  the  hurricanes  o'erwhelm  her 

With  her  starry  banner  and  her  tall  masts  three? 
Was  a  pirate  fleet  her  captor? 
Did  she  drift  to  polar  oceans? 

Who  shall  tell  the  awful  secret  of  the  sea! 

Who  shall  tell?     Yet  many  a  sailor 
In  his  watch  at  dawn  or  midnight, 

When  the  wind  is  wildest  and  the  black  waves  moan, 
Sees  a  stanch  three-master  looming ; 
Hears  the  hurried  call  to  quarters, 

The  drum's  quick  beat  and  the  bugle  fiercely  blown; 
Then  the  cannon's  direful  thunder 
Echoes  far  along  the  billows: 

Then  the  victor's  shout  for  the  foe  overthrown; 
And  the  watcher  knows  the  phantom 
Is  the  Wasp,  the  gallant  war-sloop, 

Still  a  rover  of  the  seas  and  glory's  own! 


BOY   BRITTON. 

[August,    1814.] 
FORCEYTHE    WILLSON". 


BOY  Britton,  only  a  lad,  a  fair-haired  boy,  sixteen 
In  his  uniform. 
Into  the  storm,  into  the  roaring  jaws  of  grim  Fort  Henry, 
Boldly  bears  the  Federal  flotilla, 
Into  the  battle  storm. 

Boy  Britton  is  master's  mate  aboard  the  Essex, 
There  he  stands,  buoyant  and  eagle-eyed, 
By  the  brave  captain's  side; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  145 

Jeady  to  do  or  dare;  "Aye,  aye,  sir,"  always  ready 

In  his  country's  uniform! 
3oom !  boom !  and  now  the  flag-boat  sweeps 
ind  now  the  Essex  is  plunged 

Into  the  battle's  storm. 

Boom !  boom !  till  river  and  fort  and  field 

\re  overclouded  by  the  battle's  breath; 

Then  from  the  fort  a  gleam  and  a  crashing  gun, 

ind  the  Essex  is  wrapped  and  shrouded 

En  a  scalding  cloud  of  steam. 

But  victory!  victory! 
Unto  God  all  praise  be  rendered, 
Unto  God  all  praise  and  glory  be ; 
See,  Boy  Britton,  see,  boy,  see, 
They  strike !  hurrah !  the  fort  has  surrendered ! 
Shout!  shout!  my  warrior  boy, 
And  wave  your  cap,  and  clap  your  hands  for  joy. 
3heer  answer  cheer,  and  bear  the  cheer  about. 
Eurrah !  hurrah !  for  the  fiery  fort  is  ours. 
'Victory!  victory!  victory!"  is  the  shout. 
Shout !  for  the  fiery  fort  is  ours, 
And  the  field,  and  the  day  are  ours! 
The  day  is  ours,  thanks  to  the  brave  endeavor 
Of  heroes,  boy,  like  thee ! 
The  day  is  ours,  the  day  is  ours ! 
Glory  and  deathless  love  to  all  who  shared  with  thee, 
And  bravely  endured  and  dared  with  thee, 
The  day  is  ours,  the  day  is  ours  forever! 
Glory  and  love  for  one  and  all,  but,  for  thee, 
Home!  home!  a  happy  welcome,  welcome  home,  for  thee, 
And  a  mother's  happy  tears,  and  a  virgin's 
Bridal  wreath  of  flowers  for  thee. 
10 


146  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Victory!  victory! 
But  suddenly  wrecked  and  wrapped  in  seething  steam 
The  Essex  slowly  drifted  out  of  the  battle  storm. 
Slowly,  slowly,  down,  laden  with  the  dead  and  dying, 
And  there  at  the  captain's  feet,  among  the  dead  and  dying 
The  shot-marred  form  of  a  beautiful  boy  is  lying, 

There  in  his  uniform. 

Laurels  and  tears  for  thee,  boy,  laurels  and  tears  for  thee; 

Laurels  of  light  moist  with  the  precious  d§w 

Of  the  inmost  heart  of  the  nation's  loving  heart, 

And  blest  by  the  balmy  breath  of  the  beautiful  and  the  true, 

Moist,  moist  with  the  luminous  breath  of  the  singing  spheres, 

And  the  nation's  starry  tears; 

And  tremble  touched  by  the  pulse-like  gush  and  start, 

Of  the  universal  music  of  the  heart, 

And  all  deep  sympathy. 

Laurels  and  tears  for  thee,  boy,  laurels  and  tears  for  thee, 

Laurels  of  light  and  tears  of  love,  forevermore  for  thee. 

And  laurels  of  light,  and  tears  of  truth, 
And  the  mantle  of  immortality; 
And  the  flowers  of  love,  and  immortal  youth, 
And  the  tender  heart-tokens  of  all  true  ruth, 

And  the  everlasting  victory. 
And  the  breath  and  bliss  of  liberty, 
And  the  loving  kiss  of  liberty. 
And  the  welcoming  light  of  heavenly  eyes, 
And  the  over  calm  of  God's  canopy; 
And  the  infinite  love-span  of  the  skies, 
That  covers  the  valleys  of  Paradise, 
For  all  of  the  brave  who  rest  with  thee; 
And  for  one  and  all  who  died  with  thee, 
And  now  sleep  side  by  side  with  thee ; 
And  for  everyone  who  lives  and  dies 


AND   RECITATIONS.  147 

3n  the  solid  land,  or  the  heaving  sea, 
Dear  warrior  boy,  like  thee ! 

)n,  the  victory,  the  victory  belongs  to  thee! 

xod  ever  keeps  the  brightest  crown  for  such  as  thou, 

le  gives  it  now  to  thee. 

foung  and  brave,  and  early  and  thrice  blest, 

Thrice,  thrice,  thrice  blest! 
Dhy  country  turns  once  more  to  kiss  thy  youthful  brow, 
bid  takes  thee  gently,  gently  to  her  breast, 
bid  whispers  lovingly,  "  God  bless  thee,  bless  thee  now, 

My  darling,  thou  shalt  rest!  " 


SPEECH   OF  RED  JACKET. 


[Red  Jacket — Sa-go-ye-wat-ha,  his  Indian  name,  meaning  "  He  keeps 
hem  awake  " — was  one  of  the  most  powerful  chiefs  of  the  Six  Nations, 
tie  head  of  the  Senecas,  New  York.  During  the  Revolution  his  activity 
nd  intelligence  acquired  for  him  the  friendship  of  the  British  officers, 
mo,  as  a  compliment  or  for  services  rendered,  gave  him  a  richly  em- 
roidered  scarlet  jacket  which  he  wore  with  great  pride,  and  from  it 
ras  given  to  him  his  English  name.  Red  Jacket  was  a  man  of  great  elo- 
uence,  and  truthfully  stated  of  himself,  "  I  am  an  orator !  1  was  born 
n  orator !  "  In  the  summer  of  1805  a  missionary  was  sent  to  the  Six 
Tations  by  the  Evangelical  Missionary  Society  of  Massachusetts  to  plant 

station  among  the  Senecas.  A  council  of  chiefs  was  convoked  to  hear 
is  proposals,  and  after  two  hours'  consultation  Red  Jacket  made  reply.] 


3  EOTHEK,  listen  to  what  we  say.  There  was  a  time  when 
_)  our  forefathers  owned  this  great  island.  Their  seats  ex- 
3nded  from  the  rising  to  the  setting  sun.  The  Great  Spirit  had 
iade  it  for  the  use  of  the  Indians.  He  had  created  the  buffalo, 
ie  deer,  and  other  animals  for  food.  He  had  scattered  them  over 
ie  country  and  taught  us  how  to  take  them.  He  had  caused  the 
arth  to  produce  cora  for  bread.  All  this  he  had  done  for  his  red 
ihildren,  because  he  loved  them.  If  we  had  some  disputes  about 
ur  hunting  ground,  they  were  generally  settled  without  the  shed- 
ing  of  much  blood.     But  an  evil  day  came  upon  us.     Your  fore- 


148  WERNER'S   READINGS 

fathers  crossed  the  great  water  and  landed  on  this  island.  They 
found  friends  and  not  enemies.  They  told  us  they  had  fled  from 
their  own  country  for  fear  of  wicked  men,  and  had  come  here  to 
enjoy  their  religion.  They  asked  for  a  small  seat.  We  took  pity 
on  them  and  granted  their  request.  They  sat  down  among  us. 
We  gave  them  corn  and  meat.  They  gave  us  poison  in  return. 
They  called  us  brothers.  We  believed  them,  and  gave  them  a  larger 
seat.  They  wanted  more  land;  they  wanted  our  country.  Our 
eyes  were  opened  and  our  minds  became  uneasy.  Indians  were 
hired  to  fight  against  Indians,  and  many  of  our  people  were  de 
stroyed. 

Brother,  you  have  now  become  a  great  people,  and  we  have 
scarcely  a  place  left  to  spread  our  blankets.  You  have  got  our 
country,  but  are  not  satisfied ;  you  want  to  force  your  religion  upon 
us.  You  say  that  you  are  sent  to  instruct  us  how  to  worship  the 
Great  Spirit  agreeably  to  his  mind,  and  if  we  do  not  take  hold  of 
the  religion  which  you  white  people  teach,  we  shall  be  unhappy 
hereafter.  How  do  we  know  this  to  be  true?  We  only  know  what 
you  tell  us  about  it.  How  shall  we  know  when  to  believe,  being 
so  often  deceived  by  the  white  people?  We  understand  that  your 
religion  is  written  in  a  book.  If  there  is  but  one  religion,  why 
do  you  white  people  differ  so  much  about  it?  Why  not  all  agree, 
as  you  can  all  read  the  book? 

Brother,  we  do  not  understand  these  things.  We  are  told  that 
your  religion  was  given  to  your  forefathers,  and  has  been  handed 
down  from  father  to  son.  We  also  have  a  religion,  which  was 
given  to  our  forefathers  and  has  been  handed  down  to  their  chil- 
dren. It  teaches  us  to  be  thankful  for  all  the  favors  we  receive, 
to  love  each  other,  and  to  be  united.  We  never  quarrel  about 
religion.  We  are  told  that  you  have  been  preaching  to  the  white 
people  in  this  place.  These  people  are  our  neighbors.  We  will 
wait  a  little  while  and  see  what  effect  }Tour  preaching  has  upon 
them.  If  we  find  it  does  them  good,  makes  them  honest,  and  less 
disposed  to  cheat  Indians,  we  will  consider  again  what  you  have 
said. 


AND  RECITATIONS.  149 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TIPPECANOE. 


[The  battle  of  Tippecanoe  was  fought  November  5th,  1811,  on  the  banks 
if  Tippecanoe  River,  Indiana,  now  the  village  of  Battle  Ground,  between 
he  Americans  under  General  Harrison  and  the  Indians  under  a  brother  of 
he  famous  Tecumseh.] 


AWAKE!  awake!  my  gallant  friends; 
To  arms !  to  arms !  the  foe  is  nigh ; 
The  sentinel  his  warning  sends 

And  hark !  the  treacherous  savage  cry ! 
Awake!  to  arms!     The  word  goes  round; 
The  drum's  deep  roll,  the  fife's  shrill  sound, 
The  trumpet's  blast,  proclaim  through  night 
On  Indian  band,  a  bloody  fight. 

Oh,  haste  thee,  Baen  !  alas!  too  late; 

A  red  chief's  arm  now  aims  the  blow; 
An  early  but  a  glorious  fate — 

The  tomahawk  hath  laid  thee  low. 
Dread  darkness  reigns.     On,  Davies,  on! 
Where's  Boyd  and  valiant  Harrison, 
Commander  of  the  white  man's  force? 
And  Owen?     He's  a  bleeding  corse! 

"Stand,  comrades  brave,  stand  to  your  post! 

Here's  Wells  and  Floyd  and  Barton;  all 
Must  now  be  won  or  now  be  lost ; 

Ply  briskly  bayonet,  sword,  and  ball." 
Thus  spoke  the  general,  when  a  yell 
Was  heard  as  though  a  hero  fell ; 
And,  hark!  the  Indian  whoop  again — 
It  is  for  daring  Davies  slain ! 


150  WERNERS   READINGS 

Oh,  fearful  is  the  battle's  rage! 

No  lady's  hand  is  iu  the  fray, 
But  brawny  limbs  the  contest  wage 

And  struggle  for  the  victor's  day. 
Lo!  Spencer  sinks,  and  Warwick's  slain, 
And  lifeless  bodies  strew  the  plain ; 
And  yells  and  groans  and  clang  and  roar 
Echo  along  the  Wabash  shore. 

But  mark  where  breaks  upon  the  eye 
Aurora's  beam !     The  coming  day 

Shall  foil  a  frantic  prophecy 
And  Christian  valor  well  display. 

Ne'er  did  Constantine's  soldiers  see 

With  more  of  joy  for  victory 

Across  the  arch  of  heaven  adorn 

Than  these  the  blushing  of  the  morn. 

Bold  Boyd  led  on  his  steady  band 

With,  bristling  bayonets  burnished  bright; 

What  could  their  dauntless  charge  withstand 
What  stay  the  warriors'  matchless  might? 

Rushing  amain,  they  cleared  the  field; 

The  savage  foe  compelled  to  yield 

To  Harrison,  who,  near  and  far, 

Gave  form  and  spirit  to  the  war. 

Sound,  sound  the  charge! 

Spur,  spur  the  steed! 
And  swift  the  fugitives  pursue; 

'Tis  vain!  rein  in — your  utmost  speed 
Could  not  o'ertake  the  recreant  crew. 
In  lowland  marsh  or  dell  or  cave 
Each  Indian  sought  his  life  to  save, 
Whence,  peering  forth,  with  fear  and  ire 
He  saw  at  last  his  town  on  fire. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  151 


Now  the  great  Eagle  of  the  West 

Triumphant  wing  was  seen  to  wave; 
And  now  each  soldier's  manly  breast 

Sighed  o'er  his  fallen  comrade's  grave. 
Some  dropped  a  tear  and  mused  awhile, 
Then  joined  in  measured  march  their  file; 
And  here  and  there  cast  wistful  eye 
That  might  surviving  friend  descry. 

But  let  a  foe  again  appear 

Or  East,  or  West,  or  South,  or  North, 
The  soldier  then  shall  dry  the  tear 

And,  fearless,  gayly  sally  forth. 
With  lightning  eye  and  warlike  front 
He'll  meet  the  battle's  deadly  brunt; 
Come  Indian,  Briton — if  arrayed 
For  fight,  he'll  feel  a  freeman's  blade! 


TO  A  PORTRAIT  OF  RED  JACKET. 


FITZ    GREENE   HALLECK. 


c 


OOPER,  whose  name  is  with  his  country's  woven, 
First  in  her  files,  her  pioneer  of  mind — 

A  wanderer  now  in  other  climes,  has  proven 
His  love  for  the  young  land  he  left  behind; 

And  throned  her  in  the  senate-hall  of  nations 
Eobed  like  the  deluge  rainbow,  heaven-wrought, 

Magnificent  as  his  own  mind's  creations 

And  beautiful  as  its  green  world  of  thought. 

If  he  were  with  me,  King  of  Tuscarora ! 

Gazing,  as  I,  upon  thy  portrait  now, 
In  all  its  medalled,  fringed,  and  beaded  glory, 

Its  eye's  dark  beauty,  and  its  thoughtful  brow — 


152  WERNERS   READINGS 

Its  brow  half  martial  and  half  diplomatic, 
Its  eye  upsoaring  like  an  eagle's  wing — 

Well  might  he  boast  that  we,  the  democratic, 
Outrival  Europe  even  in  our  kings! 

For  thou  wast  monarch  born.     Tradition's  pages 
Tell  not  the  planting  of  thy  parent  tree, 

But  that  the  forest  tribes  have  bent  for  ages 
To  thee,  and  to  thy  sires,  the  subject  knee. 

Thy  name  is  princely — if  no  poet's  magic 

Could  make  Red  Jacket  grace  an  English  rhyme, 

Though  some  one  with  a  genius  for  the  tragic 
Hath  introduced  it  in  a  pantomime. 

Yet  it  is  music  in  the  language  spoken 
Of  thine  own  land,  and  on  her  herald-roll 

As  bravely  fought  for,  and  as  proud  a  token 
As  Coeur  de  Lion's  of  a  warrior  soul. 

Thy  garb — though  Austria's  bosom-star  would  frighten 
That  medal  pale  as  diamonds  the  dark  mine, 

And  George  the  Fourth  wore  at  his  court  at  Brighton 
A  more  becoming  evening  dress  than  thine — 

Yet  'tis  a  brave  one,  scorning  wind  and  weather 
And  fitted  for  thy  couch  on  field  or  flood, 

As  Rob  Roy's  tartan  for  the  Highland  heather 
Or  forest  green  for  England's  Robin  Hood. 

Is  strength  a  monarch's  merit,  like  a  whaler's? 

Thou  art  as  tall,  as  sinewy,  and  as  strong 
As  earth's  first  kings — the  Argo's  gallant  sailors, 

Heroes  in  history  and  gods  in  song. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  153 

Is  eloquence?     Her  spell  is  thine  that  reaches 
The  heart,  and  makes  the  wisest  head  its  sport; 

And  there's  one  rare  strange  virtue  in  thy  speeches, 
The  secret  of  their  mastery — they  are  short! 

Who  will  believe?     Not  I,  for  in  deceiving 
Lies  the  dear  charm  of  life's  delightful  dream; 

I  cannot  spare  the  luxury  of  believing 

That  all  things  beautiful  are  what  they  seem. 

Who  will  believe  that — with  a  smile  whose  blessing 
Would,  like  the  Patriarch's,  soothe  a  dying  hour; 

With  voice  as  low,  as  gentle,  and  caressing 
As  e'er  won  maiden's  lip  in  moonlit  bower; 

With  look  like  patient  Job's  eschewing  evil; 

With  motions  graceful  as  a  bird's  in  air, — 
Thou  art,  in  sober  truth,  the  veriest  devil 

That  e'er  clenched  fingers  in  a  captive's  hair. 

And  underneath  that  face,  like  summer  ocean's, 

Its  lip  as  moveless,  and  its  cheek  as  clear, 
Slumbers  a  whirlwind  of  the  heart's  emotions, 

Love,  hatred,  pride,  hope,  sorrow — all,  save  fear. 

Love  for  thy  land,  as  if  she  were  thy  daughter, 

Her  pipe  in  peace,  her  tomahawk  in  wars; 
Hatred  of  missionaries  and  cold  water; 

Pride  in  thy  rifle  trophies  and  thy  scars. 

Hope  that  thy  wrongs  may  be,  by  the  Great  Spirit, 
Eemembered  and  revenged  when  thou  art  gone; 

Sorrow  that  none  are  left  thee  to  inherit 

Thy  name,  thy  fame,  thy  passions,  and  thy  throne ! 


154  WERNER'S    READINGS 

WHAT  WAKED  THE   WORLD. 


ALBIOJST    W.    TOUKGEE. 


TIME  fled.  The  world  moved  faster  than  ever  before.  T 
telegraph  was  beginning  to  unify  thought.  Like  a  gia 
centipede  it  crept  over  the  land.  It  murdered  sloth  and  ran  ahe 
of  time.  It  stole  the  merchant's  secret  and  sold  it  to  a  rival 
thousand  leagues  away.  It  made  principal  and  agent  one.  It  f 
brain  with  fact  and  gave  to  mind  the  ubiquity  of  the  Infinite, 
made  every  man  an  Adam  and  marshalled  the  world's  life  bef 
him. 

The  curtain  of  darkness  was  rent  in  twain,  and  beyond  t 
Mississippi  a  boundless  empire  was  revealed.  The  Golden  Ga 
were  uplifted,  and  the  traditions  of  the  Orient  were  beggai 
by  the  facts  of  the  Occident.  For  two  hundred  years  the  woi 
had  hungered  for  gold  and  found  no  new  supply.  The  temples  a 
palaces  of  India  had  been  ravaged  by  ruthless  hands  to  satisfy  ti 
greed  of  civilization.  The  jewels  of  her  gods  shone  in  the  ro; 
crowns  of  Europe.  Brave  men  wore  with  pride  the  gems  tl 
valor  had  won  from  heathen  hands.  The  world  was  base  a 
man  was  greedy.  For  a  hundred  }^ears  the  supply  of  the  precic 
metals  had  steadily  diminished.  Commerce  had  increased  me^ 
while  a  thousandfold.  The  accepted  basis  of  exchange  had  gro1 
less  and  less  sufficient  for  the  world's  need.  Already  the  hum 
mind  was  busy  devising  substitutes.  Production  was  limited,  1 
by  demand  or  by  capacity  for  supply,  but  by  the  difficulty  of  trai 
port  and  the  paucity  of  an  indestructible  measure  of  value.  "  Go! 
Gold!  Gold!"  was  the  hopeless  cry  of  all  the  world.  It  v 
generally  believed  that  the  earth  was  virtually  exhausted  of  precic 
minerals,  and  no  one  supposed  that  the  supply  would  ever  be  n 
terially  enhanced. 

The  width  of  the  continent  transformed  boundless  wealth  ii 
pitiable  poverty.  Where  nothing  was  expected,  infinite  possi  bill 
uprose.     Fifteen  years   before,  a  Congressional   report  had  sai. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  155 

So  man  will,  after  a  moment's  reflection,  suppose  that  the  country 
yond  the  sandy  prairies  in  the  West  and  North  can  ever  become 
umbers  of  this  Union.  They  are  scarcely  less  distant  than  the 
ast  of  Africa,  and  are  separated  from  us  by  a  breadth  of  conti- 
,nt  requiring  more  time  and  expense  to  traverse  than  the  ocean 
elf."  A  noted  politician,  who  yet  lives  to  laugh  at  his  own  folly, 
d  in  a  public  speech  upon  the  acquisition  of  California,  holding 
veil-worn  pencil  up  before  his  auditors,  "  I  would  not  give  that 
ncil-stub  for  all  the  gold  that  will  ever  be  found  there,"  and 
II  hearers  applauded  his  wisdom. 

No  wonder  the  world  woke  with  amazement  from  such  dreams 
i  ran  wild  when  golden  plains  and  silver  mountains  outspread 
3mselves  before  its  famished  eyes.  All  Christendom  felt  the 
cob  of  an  insatiable  greed.  The  lust  of  sudden  wealth  thrilled 
er  and  pauper.  The  desert  that  lay  between  was  robbed  of  fear, 
.e  tropic  sun  blazed  down  in  vain  upon  the  reckless  wayfarers. 
:e  glint  of  gold  outshone  the  stars.  Distance  could  not  dim  it. 
fnculty  could  not  quench  desire.  A  grain  of  yellow  dust  in- 
med  a  hundred  hearts.  A  single  nugget  fired  a  thousand  souls 
mew  exertion.  Men  wbo  would  have  died  clods  lived  to  be 
Vied  of  princes  through  the  lust  born  of  a  gold-streaked  lump  of 
Wy  quartz  shown  in  a  shop  window.  Thousands  failed.  Thou- 
tds  died.  The  highways  to  the  land  of  promise  became  endless 
xrnels.  Dead  men's  bones  pointed  the  way  to  those  who  came 
er.  The  sharks  of  the  southern  seas  grew  fat  on  frequent  corpses ; 
over  the  dead  all  the  more  greedily  pressed  the  living.  For 
ryone  that  fell  there  were  a  thousand  that  sprang  up.  For 
ryone  that  went  there  were  ten  thousand  that  sought  to  go. 
I  everyone  that  came  back  laden  there  were  a  million  who 
lamed  that  they  might  some  time  know  a  like  good  fortune; 
1,  because  of  this  dream,  wrought  more  earnestly,  saved  more 
f  sistently,  and  so  achieved  more  richly  than  they  otherwise  would 
m  done.     Thus  science  and  greed  stirred  the  world  into  new 

Wherever  trade  went  the  fever  flew.     Gold  flowed  through  the 


156  WERNER'S   READINGS 

world  like  water  in  comparison  with  the  dearth  that  had  been. 
Half  a  decade  yielded  more  than  half  a  century  had  given  before. 
"Dust,"  and  "  nugget "  grew  familiar  to  all  eyes.  The  slang  of 
the  mining-camp  crept  into  the  world's  speech.  Palms  that  had 
only  known  shillings  were  gladdened  with  crowns.  The  child 
leaped  from  his  cradle  to  join  in  the  struggle  for  gold.  The  peas- 
ant's heart  grew  big  and  his  arm  waxed  strong  as  he  saw  a  possi- 
bility that  he  might  yet  be  richer  than  his  king.  Mammon  gave 
his  right  hand  to  Democracy.  The  yellow,  molten  torrent  under- 
mined the  throne  and  made  the  crown  look  dim.  The  highways 
of  empire  were  opened  to  the  humblest  feet.  The  doors  of  kings' 
palaces  were  unbarred,  and  unwashed  feet  poured  through  the  sanc- 
tuaries of  power.  Wooden  shoes  gave  place  to  golden  sandals. 
Miracles  were  multiplied.  Where  one  had  risen  a  step  before,  a 
thousand  were  to  reach  the  top  thereafter.  Rank  was  cheapened, 
manhood  magnified.  Those  above  were  not  dragged  down,  but 
those  below  were  forced  upward.  The  world  was  started  on  a  race 
which  grew  more  fierce  and  headlong  as  the  years  went  by.  The  past 
was  swept  away  as  with  a  burning  besom.  The  future  bloomed 
with  hope.     A  flood-tide  marked  the  century's  zenith. 

In  that  same  hour  freedom  and  slavery  cast  their  eyes  upon  the 
new  domain.  Both  were  inspired  by  greed.  The  free  North  de- 
manded that  at  least  a  part  of  the  fertile  plains,  the  golden  sands 
and  the  silver-veined  heights  should  be  held  as  an  arena,  wherein 
every  man  might  struggle  with  his  fellow  for  the  prizes  of  life 
without  let  or  hindrance  from  another's  will.  The  South  demanded 
that  the  institution  most  favored  by  the  Constitution,  and  especially 
nourished  and  protected  by  the  laws  of  the  states  in  which  it  had 
taken  root,  should  also  be  protected  in  the  territories  of  the  United 
States  not  yet  organized  under  municipal  forms  or  erected  into 
self-governing  states.  A  thrill  of  angry  apprehension  passed 
through  the  whole  North.  People  knew  that  a  great  crisis  was  at 
hand,  but  none  could  trace  its  outcome.  A  few  were  confident 
that  liberty  would  triumph.  Others  counted  slavery  the  victor, 
and  yet  sullenly  resisted ;   while  still  others  thought   the  whole 


AND  RECITATIONS.  157 

matter  ended,  and  looked  for  the  old  parties  to  muster  their  hosts 
again  on  the  old  familiar  grounds  that  had  been  fought  over  quad- 
rennially for  threescore  years. 


DEATH   OF   HARRISON. 


H".    P.    WILLIS. 


[William  Henry  Harrison,  ninth  President  of  the  United  States,  was 
inaugurated  March  4,  1841,  and  died  April  4,  just  one  month  after  his 
inauguration.  He  was  the  son  of  Benjamin  Harrison,  of  Virginia,  one 
of  the  signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  In  1801  he  was  Gov- 
ernor of  Indiana.  In  the  war  of  1812  he  was  at  the  head  of  the  American 
army,  and  displayed  great  military  talent.  He  was  the  first  President 
who  died  in  office,  and  his  loss  was  universally  lamented.] 


I 


WHAT !  soared  the  old  eagle  to  die  at  the  sun ! 
Lies  he  stiff  with  spread  wings  at  the  goal  he  had  won# 
Are  there  spirits  more  blest  than  the  "planets  of  even," 
Who  mount  to  their  zenith,  then  melt  into  heaven — 
No  waning  of  fire,  no  quench iug  of  ray, 
But  rising,  still  rising,  when  passing  away? 
Farewell,  gallant  eagle! — thou'rt  buried  in  light! 
God  speed  into  heaven,  lost  star  of  our  night! 

Death !  Death  in  the  White  House !     Ah,  never  before, 
Trod  his  skeleton  foot  on  the  President's  floor! 
He  is  looked  for  in  hovel,  and  dreaded  in  hall, 
The  king  in  his  closet  keeps  hatchment  and  pall, 
The  youth  in  his  birthplace,   the  old  man  at  home, 
Make  clean  from  the  door-stone  the  path  to  the  tomb; 
But  the  lord  of  this  mansion  was  cradled  not  here — 
In  a  church-yard  far  off  stands  his  beckoning  bier. 

He  is  here  as  the  wave-crest  heaves  flashing  on  high, 
As  the  arrow  is  stopped  by  its  prize  in  the  sky, 


158  WERNER'S  READINGS 

The  arrow  to  earth  and  the  foam  to  the  shore — 
Death  finds  them  when  swiftness  and  sparkle  are  o'er; 
But  Harrison's  death  fills  the  climax  of  story, 
He  went,  with  his  old  stride,  from  glory  to  glory ! 

Lay  his  sword  on  his  breast !     There's  no  spot  on  its  blade 

In  whose  cankering  breath  his  bright  laurels  will  fade ! 

'Twas  the  first  to  lead  on  at  humanity's  call, 

It  was  stayed  with  sweet  mercy  when  " glory  "  was  all! 

As  calm  in  the  council  as  gallant  in  war, 

He  fought  for  his  country,  and  not  its  "  hurrah !  " 

In  the  path  of  the  hero  with  pity  he  trod ; 

Let  him  pass,  with  his  sword,  to  the  presence  of  God! 

What  more?     Shall  we  on  with  his  ashes?     Yet,  stay! 

He  hath  ruled  the  wide  realm  of  a  king  in  his  day! 

At  his  word,  like  a  monarch's,  went  treasure  and  land, 

The  bright  gold  of  thousands  has  passed  through  his  hand ; 

Is  there  nothing  to  show  of  his  glittering  hoard? 

Nor  jewel  to  dock  the  rude  hilt  of  his  sword? 

No  trappings?  no  horses?  what  had  he,  but  now? 

On,  on  with  his  ashes !  he  left  but  his  plough ! 

Brave  old  Cincinnatus!     Unwind  ye  his  sheet! 

Let  him  sleep  as  he  lived — with  his  purse  at  his  feet! 


Follow  now,  as  ye  list!     The  first  mourner  to-day 
Is  the  nation,  whose  father  is  taken  away ! 
Wife,  children,  and  neighbor,  may  moan  at  his  knell; 
He  was  "lover  and  friend"  to  his  country,  as  well! 
For  the  stars  on  our  banner,  grown  suddenly  dim, 
Let  us  weep,  in  our  darkness,  but  weep  not  for  him! 
Not  for  him,  who,  departing,  leaves  millions  in  tears; 
Not  for  him,  who  has  died  full  of  honor  and  years; 
Not  for  him,  who  ascended  fame's  ladder  so  high 
From  the  round  at  the  top  he  has  stepped  to  the  sky! 


AND    RECITATIONS.  159 


Period  VL— CIVIL  WAR.— EMANCIPATION 

PROCLAMATION. 

1861— 1864. 


REAWAKENING. 


[1861—1889.] 


CAEL     SPENCER. 


UPON  their  arms  they  lay  and  slept ; 
Ashamed  the  mother  o'er  them  wept! 
They,  who  were  set  to  lead  the  van, 
Had  stayed  the  forward  march  of  man, 
Nor  half  their  ancient  promise  kept. 

Far  off,  they  heard  the  earthquake's  shock, 
They  heard  insurgent  Europe's  mock. 
It  said,  "  The  Pilgrims'  faith  is  cold, 
Their  children  care  for  naught  but  gold." 
They  heard  and  lingered,  dreaming  still, 
Whose  fathers  fought  at  Bunker's  Hill, 
Whose  mothers  prayed  on  Plymouth  Eock. 

Upon  their  arms  they  slept,  they  dreamed; 

Valor  seemed  dead — but  only  seemed ; 

For  suddenly  a  bugle  blew — 

Up  sprang  the  warriors,  false  and  true, 

And  all  the  sleeping  palace  rang 

With  trumpet  peal  and  sabre  clang, 

And  freedom's  beauty  bloomed  anew. 


160  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Ah,  for  those  days  when  men  were  men! 
Each  house  had  heroes  in  it  then. 
Ah,  for  those  days  when  faith  illumed 
The  hearts  it  burned  in,  unconsumed! 
"Women  were  angels  then,  in  truth ; 
And  age  grew  young  again,  and  youth 
Had  tenfold  life  to  lavish  then. 

Ah,  then  the  mother  rose  up  proud, 
And,  smiling  through  the  sorrow  cloud, 
Once  more  her  eye  shot  forth  the  ray 
That  lights  the  nations  on  their  way. 
Fast  flowed  the  glorious,  awful  strife, 
A  thousand  years  of  mortal  life 
Melted  in  one  immortal  day. 

0  God  of  battles!  breathe  again 
The  spirit  that  makes  gods  of  men ! 
For  now  the  patriot  heart  beats  low ; 
A  sordid  age  hath  dimmed  the  glow. 
Once  in  our  markets  men  were  sold ; 
Now,  they  sell  freedom's  self  for  gold, 
And  freemen  bear  to  have  it  so ! 

0  God  of  nations!  stoop  to  break 
This  spell,  ere  yet  Thy  judgments  wake! 
Strike  through  this  later,  darker  crime, 
The  light  of  that  revealing  time! 
Shame  back  the  robbers  from  the  soil 
Thou  gav'st  our  martyrs  for  a  spoil, 
And  save  us  for  the  fathers'  sake! 

Save  us  who,  counting  triumphs  won, 
Add  Gettysburg  to  Lexington ! 
Whose  priceless  heritage  profaned 


AND   RECITATIONS.  161 

Hath  twice  been  hallowed,  twice  regained. 
Oh,  shame  on  us,  if  we  despair, 
Knowing  what  kindred  hearts  could  dare, 
Or  leave  our  lighter  work  undone ! 


THE   PRESENT  CRISIS. 


JAMES    RUSSELL   LOWELL. 


WHEN  a  deed  is  done  for  freedom,  through  the  broad  earth's 
aching  breast 
Runs  a  thrill  of  joy  prophetic,  trembling  on  from  East  to  West; 
And  the  slave,  where'er  he  cowers,  feels  the  soul  within  him  climb, 
To  the  awful  verge  of  manhood,  as  the  energy  sublime 
Of  a  century  bursts  full-blossomed  on  the  thorny  stem  of  time. 

For  mankind  are  one  in  spirit,  and  an  instinct  bears  along 
Round  the  earth's  electric  circle  the  swift  flash  of  right  or  wrong; 
Whether  conscious  or  unconscious,  yet  humanity's  vast  frame 
Through  its  ocean-sundered  fibres  feels  the  gush  of  joy  or  shame — 
In  the  gain  or  loss  of  one  race  all  the  rest  have  equal  claim. 

Once  to  every  man  and  nation  comes  the  moment  to  decide, 

In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or  evil  side; 

Some  great  cause,  God's  new  Messiah,  offering  each  the  bloom  or 

blight, 
Parts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand,  and  the  sheep  upon  the  right, 
And  the  choice  goes  by  forever  'twixt  that  darkness  and  that  light. 

Backward  look  across  the  ages,  and  the  beacon  moments  see 
That,  like  peaks  of  some  sunk  continent,  jut  through  oblivion's  sea; 
Not  an  ear  in  court  or  market  for  the  low  foreboding  cry 
Of  those  crises,    God's  stern  winnowers,  from  whose  feet  earth's 

chaff  must  fly ; 
Never  shows  the  choice  momentous  till  the  judgment  hath  passed 

by. 
11 


162  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Careless  seems  the  great  avenger;  history's  pages  but  record 

One  death-grapple  in  the  darkness    'twixt   old  systems   and   the 

Word; 
Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold,  wrong  forever- on  the  throne, 
Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  future,  and,  behind  the  dim  unknown, 
Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above  His  own. 

"We  see  dimly  in  the  present  what  is  small  and  what  is  great ; 
Slow  of  faith,  how  weak  an  arm  may  turn  the  iron  helm  of  fate! 
But  the  soul  is  still  oracular ;  amid  the  market's  din, 
List  the  ominous  stern  whisper  from  the  delphic  cave  within, 
"  They  enslave  their  children's  children  who  make  compromise  with 
sin." 

Then  to  side  with  truth  is  noble  when  we  share  her  wretched  crust, 
Ere  her  cause  bring  fame  and  profit,  and  'tis  prosperous  to  be 

just; 
Then  it  is  the  brave  man  chooses,  while  the  coward  stands  aside, 
Doubting  in  his  abject  spirit,  till  his  Lord  is  crucified, 
And  the  multitude  make  virtue  of  the  faith  they  had  denied. 

Count  me  o'er  earth's  chosen  heroes — they  were  souls  that  stood 

alone, 
While  the  men  they  agonized  for  hurled  the  contumelious  stone; 
Stood  serene  and  down  the  future,  saw  the  golden  beam  incline 
To  the  side  of  perfect  justice,  mastered  by  their  faith  divine, 
By  one  man's  plain  truth  to  manhood  and  to  God's  supreme  design. 

By  the  light  of  burning  heretics  Christ's  bleeding  feet  I  track, 
Toiling  up  new  Calvaries  ever  with  the  cross  that  turns  not  back, 
And  these  mounts  of  anguish  number  how  each  generation  learned 
One  new  word  of  that  grand  credo  which  in  prophet-hearts  hath 

burned, 
Since  the  first  man  stood  God-conquered  with  his  face  to  heaven 

upturned. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  163 

For  humanity  sweeps  onward ;  where  to-day  the  martyr  stands, 

On  the  morrow  crouches  Judas  with  the  silver  in  his  hands; 

Far  in  front  the  cross  stands  ready  and  the  crackling  fagots  hum, 

While  the  hooting  mob  of  yesterday  in  silent  awe  return 

To  glean  up  the  scattered  ashes  into  history's  golden  urn.      ^ 

"lis  as  easy  to  be  heroes  as  to  sit  the  idle  slaves 
Of  a  legendary  virtue  carved  upon  our  fathers'  graves. 
Worshippers  of  light  ancestral  make  the  present  light  a  crime; 
AVas  the  Mayfloioer  launched  by  cowards,  steered  by  men  behind 

their  time? 
Turn  those  tracks  toward  past  or  future  that  make  Plymouth  Eock 

sublime? 

They  have  rights  who  dare  maintain  them;  we  are  traitors  to  our 

sires, 
Smothering  in  their  holy  ashes  freedom's  new-lit  altar  fires. 
Shall  we  make  their  creed  our  jailer?    Shall  we,  in  our  haste  to  slay, 
From  the  tombs  of  the  old  prophets  steal  the  funeral  lamps  away 
To  light  the  martyr-fagots  round  the  prophets  of  to-day? 

New  occasions  teach  new  duties ;  time  makes  ancient  good  uncouth ; 
They  must  upward  still  and  onward,  who  would  keep  abreast  of 

truth ; 
Lo,  before  us  gleam  her  camp-fires !    We  ourselves  must  Pilgrims  be, 
Launch  our   Mayflower,  and  steer  boldly  through  the  desperate 

winter  sea, 
Nor  attempt  the  future's  portal  with  the  past's  blood-rusted  key. 


THE   RISING   OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


ELBRIEGE  JEFFERSON  CUTLER. 


THE  drum's  wild  roar  wakes  the  land;  the  fife  is  calling  shrill; 
Ten  thousand  starry  banners  blaze  on  town,  on  bay,  on  hill ; 
Our  crowded  streets  are  throbbing  with  the  soldiers'  measured 
tramp ; 


164  WERNERS   READINGS 

Among  our  bladed  cornfields  gleam  the  white  tents  of  the  camp. 
The  thunders  of  the  rising  war  hush  labor's  drowsy  hum, 
And  heavy  to  the  ground  the  first  dark  drops  of  battle  come. 
The  souls  of  men  flame  up  anew;  the  narrow  heart  expands, 
And  woman  brings  her  patient  faith  to  nerve  her  eager  hands. 
Thank  God !  we  are  not  buried  yet,  though  long  in  trance  we  lay ; 
Thank  God !  the  fathers  need  not  blush  to  own  their  sons  to-day. 
Oh !  sad  and  slow  the  weeks  went  by ;  each  held  his  anxious  breath. 
Like  one  who  waits  in  helpless  fear  some  sorrow  great  as  death. 
Oh !  scarcely  was  there  faith  in  God  nor  any  trust  in  man, 
While  fast  along  the  Southern  sky  the  blighting  shadow  ran. 
It  veiled  the  stars,  one  after  one;  it  hushed  the  patriot's  song; 
And  stole  from  men  the  sacred  sense  that  parteth  right  and  wrong. 
Then  a  red  flash — the  lightning  across  the  darkness  broke, 
And  with  a  voice  that  shook  the  land,  the  guns  of  Sumter  spoke: 
"  Wake!  sons  of  heroes,  wake!  the  age  of  heroes  dawns  again; 
Truth  takes  in  hand  her  ancient  sword,  and  calls  her  loyal  men. 
Lo!  brightly  o'er  the  day  shines  freedom's  holy  star, 
Peace  cannot  cure  the  sickly  time.     All  hail,  the  healer,  war!  " 

That  call  was  heard  by  Plymouth  Rock;  'twas  heard  in  Boston  Bay; 

Then  up  the  piney  streams  of  Maine  sped  on  its  ringing  way; 

New  Hampshire's  rocks,  Vermont's  green  hills,  it  kindled  into  flame ; 

Rhode  Island  felt  her  mighty  soul  bursting  her  little  frame; 

The  Empire  city  started  up,  her  golden  fetters  rent, 

And,  meteor-like,  across  the  North,  the  fiery  message  sent; 

Over  the  breezy  prairie  lands,  by  bluff  and  lake  it  ran, 

Till  Kansas  bent  his  arm,  and  laughed  to  find  himself  a  man; 

Then  on  by  cabin  and  by  camp,  by  stony  wastes  and  sands, 

It  ran  exultant  down  the  sea  where  the  Golden  City  stands. 

And  wheresoe'er  the  summons  came,  there  rose  an  angry  din, 
As  when  upon  a  rocky  coast,  a  stormy  tide  comes  in. 
Straightway  the  fathers  gathered  voice,  straightway  the  sons  arose, 
With  flushing  cheeks,  as  when  the  East  with  day's  red  current  glows. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  165 

Hurrah !  the  long  despair  is  past ;  our  fading  hopes  renew ; 
The  fog  is  lifting  from  the  land,  and  lo !  the  ancient  blue ! 
We  learn  the  secret  of  the  deeds  the  sires  have  handed  down, 
To  fire  the  youthful  soldier's  zeal,  and  teud  his  green  renown. 
Who  lives  for  country,  through  his  arm  feels  all  her  forces  flow; 
'Tis  easy  to  be  brave  for  truth,  as  for  the  rose  to  blow. 

Oh,  Law!  fair  form  of  Liberty!     God's  light  is  on  thy  brow, 

Oh,  Liberty!  thou  soul  of  Law,  God's  very  self  art  thou, 

One  the  clear  river's  sparkling  flood  that  clothes  the  bank  with 

green, 
And  one  the  line  of  stubborn  rock  that  holds  the  water  in — 
Friends,  whom  we  cannot  think  ap'art,  seeming  each  other's  foe, 
Twin  flowers  upon  a  single  stalk  with  equal  grace  that  grow. 
Oh,  fair  ideas!  we  write  your  names  across  our  banner's  fold; 
For  you  the  sluggard's  brain  is  fire,  for  you  the  coward  bold. 
Oh !  daughter  of  the  bleeding  past !  Oh !  hope  the  prophets  saw ! 
God  give  us  law  in  liberty,  and  liberty  in  law ! 

Full  many  a  heart  is  aching  with  mingled  joy  and  pain 

For  those  who  go  so  proudly  forth,  and  may  not  come  again; 

And  many  a  heart  is  aching  for  those  it  leaves  behind, 

As  a  thousand  tender  histories  throng  in  upon  the  mind. 

The  old  men  bless  the  young  men,  and  praise  their  bearing  high; 

The  women  in  the  doorways  stand  to  wave  them  bravely  by. 

One  threw  her  arms  about  her  boy  and  said,  "  Good-by,  my  son ; 

God  help  thee  do  the  valiant  deeds  thy  father  would  have  done." 

One  held  up  to  a  bearded  man  a  little  child  to  kiss, 

And  said,  "  I  shall  not  be  alone,  for  thy  dear  love  and  this." 

And  one,  a  rosebud  in  her  hand,  leaned  at  a  soldier's  side; 

"  Thy  country  weds  thee  first,"  she  said,  "  be  I  thy  second  bride." 

0  mothers!  when  around  your   hearths  ye  count  your  cherished 

ones, 
And  miss  from  the  enchanted  ring  the  flower  of  all  your  sons ; 


166  WERNER'S   READINGS 

0  wives!  when  o'er  the  cradled  child  ye  bend  at  evening's  fall, 
And  voices  which  the  heart  can  hear  across  the  distance  call; 
0  maids!  when  in  the  sleepless  nights  ye  ope  the  little  case, 
And  look  till  ye  can  look  no  more  upon  the  proud  young  face; 
Not  only  pray  the  Lord  of  life,  who  measures  mortal  breath, 
To  bring  the  absent  back  unscathed  out  of  the  fire  of  death — 
Oh,  pray  with  that  divine  content  which  God's  best  favor  draws, 
That  whosoever  lives  or  dies,  He  save  His  holy  cause! 

So  out  of  shop  and  farmhouse,  from  shore  and  inland  glen, 
Thick  as  the  bees  in  clover  time,  are  swarming  armed  men ; 
Along  the  dusty  roads  in  haste  the  eager  columns  come, 
With  flash  of  sword  and  nmsket's  gleam,  the  bugle  and  the  drum. 
Ho,  comrades !  mark  the  tender  light,  on  the  dear  emblems  spread ! 
Our  fathers'  blood  has  hallowed  it;   'tis  part  of  their  renown, 
And  palsied  be  the  caitiff  hand  would  pluck  its  glories  down ! 
Hurrah!  hurrah!  it  is  our  home  where'er  thy  colors  fly; 
We  win  with  thee  our  victory,  or  in  thy  shadow  die ! 

0  women!  drive  the  rattling  loom,  and  gather  in  the  hay, 

For  all  the  youth  worth  love  and  truth  are  marshalled  in  the  fray. 

Southward  the  hosts  are  hurrying,  with  banners  wide  unfurled, 

From  where  the  stately  Hudson  floats  the  wealth  of  half  the  world; 

From  where,  amid  his  clustered  isles,  Lake  Huron's  waters  gleam; 

From  where  the  Mississippi  pours  an  unpolluted  stream ; 

From  where  Kentucky's  fields  of  corn  bend  in  the  Southern  air; 

From  broad  Ohio's  luscious  vines;  from  Jersey's  orchards  fair; 

From  where,  between  his  fertile  slopes,  Nebraska's  rivers  run ; 

From  Pennsylvania's  iron  hills;  from  woody  Oregon; 

And  Massachusetts  led  the  van,  as  in  the  days  of  yore, 

And  gave  her  reddest  blood  to  cleanse  the  stones  of  Baltimore. 

0  mothers!    sisters!    daughters!    spare    the    tears  ye  fain  would 

shed; 
Who  seem  to  die  in  such  a  cause,  ye  cannot  call  them  dead. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  167 

They  live  upon  the  lips  of  men,  in  picture,  bust,  and  song, 

And  nature  folds  them  in  her  heart,  and  keeps  them  safe  from 

wrong. 
Oh !  length  of  days  is  not  a  boon  the  brave  man  prayeth  for ; 
There  are  a  thousand  evils  worse  than  death  or  any  war — 
Oppression,  with  his  iron  strength,  fed  on  the  souls  of  men, 
And  License,  with  the  hungry  brood  that  haunt  his  ghastly  den. 
But  like  bright  stars  ye  fill  the  eye,  adoring  hearts  ye  draw; 
Oh,  sacred  grace  of  liberty!  oh,  majesty  of  law! 

Hurrah!  the  drums  are  heating;  the  fife  is  calling  shrill; 
Ten  thousand  starry  banners  flame  on  town,  and  bay,  and  hill; 
The  thunders  of  the  rising  war  drown  labor's  peaceful  hum ; 
Thank  God  that  we  have  lived  to  see  the  saffron  morning  come — 
The  morning  of  the  battle-call,  to  every  soldier  dear! 
0  joy!  the  cry  is  "  Forward!  "  0  joy!  the  foe  is  near! 
For  all  the  crafty  men  of  peace  have  failed  to  purge  the  land, 
Hurrah !  the  ranks  of  battle  close !     God  takes  His  cause  in  hand ! 


THE  VISION   OF  LIBERTY. 


HENEY   WARE,  JR. 


THE  evening  heavens  were  calm  and  bright; 
No  dimness  rested  on  the  glittering  light, 
That  sparkled  from  that  wilderness  of  worlds  on  high ; 
Those  distant  suns  burned  on  with  quiet  ray ; 
The  placid  planets  held  their  modest  way ; 
And  silence  reigned  profound  o'er  earth  and  sea  and  sky. 

Oh!  what  an  hour  for  lofty  thought! 
My  spirit  burned  within ;  I  caught 


168  WERNER'S   READINGS 

A  holy  inspiration  from  the  hour. 

Around  me  man  and  nature  slept; 

Alone  my  solemn  watch  I  kept, 
Till  morning  dawned,  and  sleep  resumed  her  power. 

A  vision  passed  upon  my  soul. 
I  still  was  gazing  up  to  heaven, 
As  in  the  early  hours  of  even; 
I  still  beheld  the  planets  roll, 
A.nd  all  those  countless  suns  of  light 
Flame  from  the  broad  blue  arch,  and  guide  the  moonless  night. 

When,  lo!  upon  the  plain, 

Just  where  it  skirts  the  swelling  main, 

A  massive  castle,  far  and  high, 

In  toAvering  grandeur  broke  upon  my  eye. 
Proud  in  its  strength  and  years,  the  ponderous  pile 

Flung  up  its  time-defying  towers; 
Its  lofty  gates  seemed  scornfully  to  smile 

At  vain  assaults  of  human  powers, 
And  threats  and  arms  deride. 
Its  gorgeous  carvings  of  heraldic  pride, 

In  giant  masses,  graced  the  walls  above; 
And  dungeons  yawned  below. 

Yet  ivy  there  and  moss  their  garlands  wove, 
Grave,  silent  chroniclers  of  time's  protracted  flow. 

Bursting  on  my  steadfast  gaze 

See,  within,  a  sudden  blaze! 
So  small  at  first  the  zephyr's  slightest  swell, 

That  scarcely  stirs  the  pine-tree  top, 

Nor  makes  the  withered  leaf  to  drop, 
The  feeble  fluttering  of  that  flame  would  quell. 

But  soon  it  spread, 

Waving,  rushing,  fierce,  and  red, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  169 

From  wall  to  wall,  from  tower  to  tower, 

Baging  with  resistless  power; 
Till  every  fervent  pillar  glowed, 

And  every  stone  seemed  burning  coal, 
Instinct  with  living  heat  that  flowed 

Like  streaming  radiance  from  the  kindled  pole. 

Beautiful,  fearful,  grand, 

Silent  as  death,  I  saw  the  fabric  stand. 

At  length  a  crackling  sound  began ; 

From  side  to  side,  throughout  the  pile  it  ran; 

And  louder  yet  and  louder  grew, 

Till  now  in  rattling  thunder-peals  it  flew. 

Huge  shivered  fragments  from  the  pillars  broke, 

Like  fiery  sparkles  from  the  anvil's  stroke. 

The  shattered  walls  were  rent  and  riven, 

And  piecemeal  driven, 

Like  blazing  comets,  through  the  troubled  sky. 

'Tis  done;  what  centuries  have  reared, 

In  quick  explosion  disappeared, 
Nor  even  its  ruins  met  my  wondering  eye. 

But  in  their  place, 

Bright  with  more  than  human  grace, 

Eobed  in  more  than  mortal  seeming, 
Eadiant  glory  in  her  face, 

And  eyes  with  heaven's  own  brightness  beaming, 
Eose  a  fair  majestic  form, 
As  the  mild  rainbow  from  the  storm. 
I  marked  her  smile,  I  knew  her  eye; 

And  when,  with  gesture  of  command, 

She  waved  aloft  a  cap-crowned  wand, 
•My  slumbers  fled  'mid  shouts  of  "  Liberty!  " 

Eead  ye  the  dream?  and  know  ye  not 
How  truly  it  unlocked  the  world  of  fate? 


170  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Went  not  the  flame  from  this  illustrious  spot, 
And  spread  it  not,  and  burns  in  every  state? 

And  when  their  old  and  cumbrous  walls, 
Filled  with  this  spirit,  glow  intense, 
Vainly  they  rear  their  impotent  defence: 

The  fabric  falls! 

That  fervent  energy  must  spread, 

Till  despotism's  towers  be  overthrown, 

And  in  their  stead 
Liberty  stands  alone! 

Hasten  the  day,  just  heaven! 

Accomplish  thy  design, 
And  let  the  blessings  thou  hast  freely  given, 

Freely  on  all  men  shiue, 
Till  equal  rights  be  equally  enjoyed, 
And  human  power  for  human  good  cmplo}red; 
Till  law,  not  man,  the  sovereign  rule  sustain, 
And  peace  and  virtue  undisputed  reign. 


BULL  RUN. 

[Sunday,  July  21.] 


ALICE   B.    HAVEN". 


[The  first  battle  of  Bull  Run  took  place  July  1,  1861 ;  the  second,  Aij 
gust  30,  1862.  In  both  engagements  the  Union  forces  were  disastrousl 
defeated. ] 


WE — walking  so  slowly  adown  the  green  lane, 
With  Sabbath  bells  chiming,  and  birds  singing  psalms 
He — eager  with  haste  pressing  on  o'er  the  slain, 

'Mid  the  trampling  of  hoofs  and  the  drum-beat  to  arms, 
In  that  cool,  dewy  morning. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  171 

7e — waiting  with  faces  all  reverent  and  still, 
1  The  organ's  voice  vibrant  with  praise  unto  God; 
lis  face  set  like  flint  with  the  impress  of  will, 
'  To  press  back  the  foe,  or  die  on  the  sod — 
My  fair,  brave  young  brother ! 

re— kneeling  to  hear  benedictions  of  love, 
i  Our  hearts  all  at  peace  with  the  message  from  heaven ! 
|e — stretched  on  the  field,  gasping,  wounded,  to  prove 
If  mercy  were  found  when  such  courage  had  striven, 
In  the  midst  of  the  slaughter. 

1  God!  can  I  live  with  the  horrible  truth? 
!  Stabbed  through  as  he  lay  with  their  glittering  steel; 
ould  they  look  in  that  face,  like  a  woman's  for  youth, 
And  crush  out  its  beauty  with  musket  and  heel, 
Like  hounds  or  like   demons? 

hat  brow  I  have  blessed  in  my  dead  mother's  place, 
Each  morning  and  evening  since  she  went  unto  rest ; 

noothing  down  the  fair  cheek  as  my  own  baby's  face, 
Those  eyes  with  her  look  where  my  kisses  were  pressed, 
For  I  saw  hers — so  tender ! 

urses  spring  to  my  lips !  0  my  God !  send  the  hail 
Of  swift,  ready  vengeance  for  deeds  such  as  this! 

orego  all  Thy  mercy,  if  judgment  must  fail ! 
Forgive  my  wild  heart  if  it  prayeth  amiss — 
His  blood  crieth  upward ! 

Amiss!  "  and  the  strife  of  my  clamorous  grief 
Is  hushed  into  stillness:  what  grief  like  to  Thine? 

:  my  poor  human  heart,  with  its  passions  so  brief, 
Is  tortured  with  pangs,  can  we  guess  the  divine, 
With  depths  past  all  searching? 


172  WERNER'S   READINGS 

I  know  eyes  more  tender  looked  upward  to  Thee, 
That  visage,  so  marred  by  the  torturing  crown ; 

Those  smooth,  noble  limbs,  racked  with  anguish  I  see; 
The  side  where  the  blood  and  the  water  gushed  down, 
From  stroke  fierce  and  brutal. 

Help  lips  white  with  anguish  to  take  up  His  prayer; 

Help  hearts  that  are  bursting  to  stifle  their  cries; 
The  shout  of  the  populace,  too,  has  been  there, 

To  drown  pleas  for  justice,  to  clothe  truth  in  lies, 
To  enrage  and  to  madden. 

They  know  not  we  loved  them;  they  know  not  we  prayed 
For  their  weal  as  our  own;  "  we  are  brethren,"  we  plead. 

Unceasing  those  prayers  to  our  Father  were  made; 

When  they  flung  down  the  palm  for  palmetto,  we  said, 
"  Let  us  still  hope  to  win  them! 

"  God  so  loved  that  He  gave!"  We  are  giving  to  these 
The  lives  that  were  dearer  to  us  than  our  own; 

Let  us  add  prayer  for  blood,  trusting  God  to  appease 
Our  heart's  craving  pain,  when  He  hears  on  His  throne, 
"Oh,  Father,  forgive  them!" 


BETHEL. 


A.    J.    H.    DUGANSTE. 


WE  mustered  at  midnight,  in  darkness  we  formed, 
And  the  whisper  went  round  of  a  fort  to  be  stormed ; 
But  no  drum-beat  had  called  us,  no  trumpet  we  heard, 
And  no  voice  of  command,  but  our  colonel's  low  word — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  173 

And  out,  through  the  mist  and  the  murk  of  the  moon, 
From  the  beaches  of  Hampton  our  barges  were  borne; 
And  we  heard  not  a  sound,  save  the  sweep  of  the  oar, 
Till  the  word  of  our  colonel  came  up  from  the  shore — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 

Through  green-tasselled  cornfields  our  columns  were  thrown, 
And  like  corn  by  the  red  scythe  of  fire  we  were  mown ; 
While  the  cannon's  fierce  ploughings  new-furrowed  the  plain, 
That  our  blood  might  be  planted  for  liberty's  grain — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 

Oh !  the  fields  of  fair  June  have  no  lack  of  sweet  flowers, 
But  their  rarest  and  best  breathe  no  fragrance  like  ours; 
And  the  sunshine  of  June,  sprinkling  gold  on  the  corn, 
Hath  no  harvest  that  ripeneth  like  Bethel's  red  morn — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 

When  our  heroes,  like  bridegrooms,  with  lips  and  with  breath 
Drank  the  first  kiss  of  danger,  and  clasped  her  in  death ; 
And  the  heart  of  brave  Winthrop  grew  mute  with  his  lyre, 
When  the  plumes  of  his  genius  lay  moulting  in  fire — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 

Where  he  fell  shall  be  sunshine  as  bright  as  his  name, 
And  the  grass  where  he  slept  shall  be  green  as  his  fame; 
For  the  gold  of  the  pen  and  the  steel  of  the  sword 
Write  his  deeds,  in  his  blood,  on  the  land  he  adored — 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 

And  the  soul  of  our  comrade  shall  sweeten  the  air, 
And  the  flowers  and  the  grass-blades  his  memory  upbear; 
While  the  breath  of  his  genius,  like  music  in  leaves, 
With  the  corn-tassels  whisper,  and  sings  in  the  sheaves — • 

"  Column !  Forward !  " 


174  WERNERS   READINGS 

THE  CAVALRY  SCOUT. 


EDMUND  US    SCOTUS. 


'  6  O  PAEE  man  nor  steed,  use  utmost  speed ;  before  the  sun 

O     goes  down, 
Thou,  sir,  must  ride,"  the  colonel  cried,  "unto  Helena  town." 

"  Colonel,"  the  stern  lieutenant  said,  "  to  hear  is  to  obey! 
Comrades!  the  path  is  fringed  with  death;  who  rides  with  me  to- 
day?" 

Instant  a  gallant  sergeant  spoke :  "  I  ride  with  thee  to-day !  " 
Along  the  ranks  a  wild  shout  broke:     "  We  follow!  lead  the  way  I  " 

Out  sprang  a  little  trumpeter,  and  clasped  the  courier's  knees: 
"I'll  sound  the  charge,  I'll  call  the  halt — me,  too!  let  me  go, 
please ! " 

"  Nay,  boy!  I  want  not  trumpet-note,  nor  arm  nor  sword  so  small; 
The  ranger's  ball  shall  sound  the  charge,  the  halt  but  death  shall 
call." 

To  horse!  the  steeds  impatient  neigh;  to  horse!  the  way  is  long; 
Brave  hearts  are  light,  keen  sabres  bright,  and  willing  arms  are 
strong. 

The  clatter  of  hoofs,  the  clash  of  steel,  the  day  is  nearly  done; 
There  will  be  need  of  armed  heel  ere  the  far-off  goal  be  won. 

Lo!  the  entrance  to  Cyril's  Wood  gapes  like  the  mouth  of  hell; 

The  dauntless  courier  mutters,  "  Good!  the  rebel  dogs  watch  well!  "      | 

No  rein  is  drawn  at  the  line  of  flame;  tally,  a  score  and  six. 
"My  place  to  lead,"  is  the  sergeant's  claim.     "Ho!  for  the  River 
Styx!" 


AND   RECITATIONS.  175 

Thou  follow!  "  rings  the  quick  reply;  "for  God  and  liberty!  " 
nd  the  well-closed  column  dashes  by — tally,  a  score  less  three. 

Comrades!  " — the  courier  turned  his  head — "  if  I  fall,  pass  me  by; 
Vhom  the  gods  love  die  young,'  'tis  said;  it  is  no  shame  to  die!  " 

he  sunless  swamp  is  near  at  hand;  gleameth  each  hostile  tree; 
yes  to  the  front,  the  lessening  band,  reckless,  ride  rapidly. 

Help  ho !  the  sergeant  !  "     One  hath  seen  whence  the  death  bear- 
ing sped ; 
imeth  the  ranger's  eyes  between,  pierceth  the  ranger's  head. 

nder  the  giant  cypress  him  the  rough  hands  gently  place; 
ive  water  to  cool  the  fevered  lips,  to  lave  the  burning  face. 

ot  here !  his  thoughts  are  far  away  in  the  home  he  loved  so  well ; 
like  a  sleepy  child  he  murmurs:  "  Hark!  do  you  hear  the  vesper 
bell?  " 

id  in  his  bosom,  bathed  in  blood,  is  a  cherished  lock  of  hair; 
e  snatches  it  forth  from  the  welling  flood,  and  takes  of  his  own 
so  fair, 

nd  puts  them  into  his  comrade's  hand :  "  You  know  the  happy 

spot, 
ive  her  who  waits  these  tresses  twain,  and  say  I  ne'er  forgot. " 

way!  away!  think  not  to  stay!  no  bootless  vigil  keep, 

ive  little  heed  to  a  comrade's  need;  a  soldier  may  not  weep. 

way !  away !  the  passing  day  warns  to  use  utmost  speed ; 

ark  to  the  shouts  of  the  rebel  scouts !     Away !  away !  good  steed ! 

>me  hither  and  see  the  glory  with  me — are  thine  eyes  so  weak, 

my  love? 
inlit  mountains  stand  on  either  hand,  and  a  purple  sky  above. 


176  »  WERNER'S   READINGS 

"  There's  a  path  goes  out  at  the  golden  west,"  trod  by  the  parting 

day, 
That  leads  to  the  fabled  home  of  the  blest  "  over  the  hills  away." 

The  sun  swells  big  in  a  last  fond  gaze,  big  with  the  light  of  love; 
Come  hither  and  see,  it  will  not  daze,  for  the  purple  grows  misty 
above. 

Drive  home  the  spur !  a  riderless  horse  into  the   night  leads  on ; 
Follow!  faint  not!  his  master's  corpse  is  many  a  mile  by-gone. 

On !  on !  deem  not  the  danger  passed  till  the  wished-for  goal  be  won, 
"  Who  goes?  "     "'Thank  God  the  lines  at  last!  "     The  hard  race  is 
done. 

"  Boys!  who  is  here?  "  a  trooper  cried ;  "  how  many  are  alive?  " 
And  the  stern  courier's  voice  replied:  "Brave  comrades,  we  are 
five!  " 


THE  CRUISE  OF  THE    "MONITOR." 


GEOEGE    M.    BAKER. 


OUT  of  a  Northern  city's  bay, 
'Neath  lowering  clouds,  one  bleak  March  day. 
Glided  a  craft — the  like  I  ween, 
On  ocean's  crest  was  never  seen 
Since  Noah's  float,  that  ancient  boat, 
Could  o'er  a  concpiered  deluge  gloat. 

No  raking  masts,  with  clouds  of  sail, 
Bent  to  the  breeze,  or  braved  the  gale ; 
No  towering  chimney's  wreaths  of  smoke 
Betrayed  the  mighty  engine's  stroke; 
But  low  and  dark,  like  the  crafty  shark, 
Moved  in  the  waters  this  novel  bark. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  177 

The  fishers  stared  as  the  flitting  sprite 
Passed  their  huts  in  the  misty  light, 
Bearing  a  turret  huge  and  black, 
And  said,  "  The  old  sea-serpent's  back, 
Carting  away  by  light  of  day, 
Uncle  Sam's  fort  from  New  York  Bay." 

Forth  from  a  Southern  city's  dock, 
Our  frigates'  strong  blockade  to  mock, 
Crept  a  monster  of  rugged  build, 
The  work  of  crafty  hands,  well  skilled — 
Old  Merrimac,  with  an  iron  back 
Wooden  ships  would  find  hard  to  crack. 

Straight  to  where  the  Cumberland  lay, 
The  mail-clad  monster  made  its  way ; 
Its  deadly  prow  struck  deep  and  sure, 
And  the  hero's  fighting  days  were  o'er. 
Ah!  many  the  braves  who  found  their  graves, 
With  that  good  ship,  beneath  the  waves! 

But  with  their  fate  is  glory  wrought, 
Those  hearts  of  oak  like  heroes  fought 
With  desperate  hope  to  win  the  day, 
And  crush  the  foe  that  'fore  them  lay. 
Our  flag  up  run,  the  last-fired  gun, 
Tokens  how  bravely  duty  was  done. 

Flushed  with  success,  the  victor  flew, 
Furious,  the  startled  squadron  through; 
Sinking,  burning,  driving  ashore, 
Until  that  Sabbath  day  was  o'er, 
Resting  at  night  to  renew  the  fight 
With  vengeful  ire  by  morning's  light. 
12 


178  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Out  of  its  den  it  burst  anew, 

When  the  gray  mist  the  sun  broke  through, 

Steaming  to  where,  in  clinging  sands, 

The  frigate  Minnesota  stands, 

A  sturdy  foe  to  overthrow, 

But  in  woful  plight  to  receive  a  blow. 

But  see !    Beneath  her  bow  appears 
A  champion  no  danger  fears; 
A  pigmy  craft,  that  seems  to  be 
To  this  new  lord  who  rules  the  sea, 
Like  David  of  old  to  Goliath  bold — 
Youth  and  giant,  by  Scripture  told. 

Round  the  roaring  despot  playing, 
With  willing  spirit,  helm  obeying, 
Spurning  the  iron  against  it  hurled, 
While  belching  turret  rapid  whirled, 
And  swift  shot's  seethe,  with  smoky  wreath, 
Told  that  the  shark  was  showing  his  teeth — 

The  Monitor  fought.      In  grim  amaze 
The  Merrimacs  upon  it  gaze, 
Cowering  'neath  the  iron  hail, 
Crashing  into  their  coat  of  mail; 
They  swore  "  this  craft,  the  devil's  shaft, 
Looked  like  a  cheese-box  on  a  raft." 

Hurrah!  little  giant  of  '62! 
Bold  Worden  with  his  gallant  crew 
Forces  the  fight;  the  day  is  won; 
Back  to  his  den  the  monster's  gone 
With  crippled  claws  and  broken  jaws, 
Defeated  in  a  reckless  cause. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  179 


Hurrah  for  the  master  mind  that  wrought, 
With  iron  hand,  this  iron  thought! 
Strength  and  safety  with  speed  combined, 
Ericsson's  gift  to  all  mankind; 
To  curb  abuse,  and  chains  to  lose, 
Hurrah  for  the  Monitor 's  famous  cruise! 


KING  COTTON. 


EOBEET   MACKENZIE. 


WHEN  Europeans  first  visited  the  southern  parts  of  North 
America,  they  found  in  abundant  growth  there  a  plant 
destined  to  such  eminence  in  the  future  history  of  the  world  as  no 
other  member  of  the  vegetable  family  ever  attained.  It  was  an 
unimportant-looking  plant  two  or  three  feet  in  height,  studded 
with  pods  somewhat  larger  than  a  walnut.  In  the  appropriate 
season  these  pods  opened,  revealing  a  wealth  of  soft,  white  fibre, 
imbedded  in  which  lay  the  seeds  of  the  plant. 

This  was  cotton.  It  was  not  unknown  to  the  Old  World.  The 
Eomans  used  cotton  fabrics  before  the  Christian  era.  India  did 
so  from  a  still  more  remote  period,  but  the  extent  to  which  its  use 
had  been  carried  was  trivial.  Men  clothed  themselves  as  best  they 
might,  in  linen  or  woollen  cloth,  or  simply  in  the  skins  of  the  beasts 
which  they  slew.  The  time  was  now  at  hand  when  an  ampler 
provision  for  their  wants  was  to  be  disclosed  to  them. 

In  1768  Richard  Arkwright  invented  a  machine  for  spinniug 
cotton,  vastly  superior  to  anything  hitherto  in  use.  Next  year  a 
greater  than  he,  James  Watt,  announced  a  greater  invention — his 
steam-engine.  England  was  now  ready  to  begin  her  great  work  of 
weaving  cotton  for  the  world;  but  where  was  the  cotton  to  be 
found? 

Three  or  four  years  before  Watt  patented  his  engine  and  Ark- 
wright his  spinning-frame,  there  was  born  in  a  New  England  farm- 
house a  boy  whose  work  was  needed  to  complete  theirs.     His  name 


180  WERNER'S   READINGS 

was  Eli  Whitney.  Eli  was  a  born  mechanic.  It  was  a  necessity 
of  his  nature  to  invent  and  construct.  As  a  mere  boy  he  made 
nails,  pins,  and  walking-canes  by  novel  processes,  and  thus  earned 
money  to  support  himself  at  college.  In  1792  he  went  to  Georgia 
to  visit  Mrs.  Greene,  the  widow  of  that  General  Greene  who  so 
troubled  Lord  Cornwallis  in  the  closing  years  of  the  war. 

In  that  primitive  society,  where  few  of  the  comforts  of  civilized 
life  were  yet  enjoyed,  no  visits  were  so  like  those  of  the  angels  as 
the  visits  of  a  skilful  mechanic.  Eli  constructed  marvellous 
amusements  for  Mrs.  Greene's  children.  He  overcame  all  house- 
hold difficulties  by  some  ingenious  contrivance.  Mrs.  Greene 
learned  to  wonder  at  him,  and  to  believe  nothing  was  impossible 
for  him. 

One  day  Mrs.  Greene  entertained  a  party  of  her  neighbors. 
The  conversation  turned  upon  the  sorrows  of  the  planter.  That 
unhappy  tenacity  with  which  the  seeds  of  the  cotton  adhered  to 
the  fibre  was  elaborately  bemoaned.  With  an  urgent  demand  from 
England  for  cotton,  with  boundless  lands  which  grew  nothing  so 
well  as  cotton,  it  was  hard  to  be  so  utterly  baffled.  Mrs.  Greene 
had  unlimited  faith  in  her  friend  Eli.  She  begged  him  to  invent 
a  machine  which  should  separate  the  seeds  of  cotton  from  the  fibre. 
Eli  was  of  Northern  upbringing  and  had  never  even  seen  cotton 
in  seed.  He  walked  into  Savannah,  and  there,  with  some  trouble, 
obtained  a  quantity  of  uncleaned  cotton.  He  shut  himself  in  his 
room,  and  brooded  over  the  difficulty  which  he  had  undertaken  to 
conquer. 

All  that  winter  Eli  labored,  devising,  hammering,  building  up, 
rejecting,  beginning  afresh.  He  had  no  help.  He  could  not  even 
buy  tools,  but  had  to  make  them  with  his  own  hands.  At  length 
his  machine  was  completed,  rude-looking,  but  visibly  effective. 
Mrs.  Greene  invited  the  leading  men  of  the  state  to  her  house. 
She  conducted  them  in  triumph  to  the  building  in  which  the 
machine  stood.  The  owners  of  unprofitable  cotton-lands  looked 
on,  with  a  wild  flash  of  hope  lighting  up  their  desponding  hearts. 
Possibilities  of  untold  wealth  to  each  of  them  lay  in  that  clumsy 


AND    RECITATIONS.  181 

structure.  The  machine  was  put  in  motion.  It  was  evident  to 
all  that  it  could  perform  the  work  of  hundreds  of  men.  Eli  had 
gained  a  great  victory  for  mankind.  In  that  rude  log-hut  of 
Georgia  cotton  was  crowned  king,  and  a  new  era  was  opened  for 
America  and  the  world. 

Ten  years  after  Whitney's  cotton-gin  was  invented,  a  huge  ad- 
dition was  made  to  the  cotton-growing  districts  of  America.  In 
1803  Europe  enjoyed  a  short  respite  from  the  mad  Napoleon  wars. 
France  had  recently  acquired  from  Spain  vast  regions  bordering 
on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  stretching  far  up  the  valley  of  the 
Mississippi  and  westward  to  the  Pacific.  It  was  certain  that 
peace  in  Europe  would  not  last  long.  It  was  equally  certain  that 
when  war  was  resumed  France  could  not  hold  these  possessions 
against  the  fleets  of  England.  America  wished  to  acquire,  and 
was  willing  to  pay  for  them.  It  was  better  to  sell  to  the  Americans, 
and  equip  soldiers  with  the  price,  than  wait  till  England  was 
ready  to  conquer.  Napoleon  sold,  and  America  added  Louisiana 
to  her  vast  possessions. 

Mark  well  these  two  events — the  invention  of  a  machine  for 
cheaply  separating  the  seeds  of  cotton  from  the  fibre,  and  the  pur- 
chase of  Louisiana  from  the  French.  Out  of  those  two  events 
Sows  the  American  history  of  the  next  half  century.  Not  any 
ather  event  since  the  War  of  Independence,  not  all  other  events  put 
together,  have  done  so  much  to  shape  and  determine  the  career  of 
the  American  people. 


THE   KEYNOTE  OF  ABOLITION. 


WILLIAM    LLOYD    GARRISON. 


THERE  is  much  declamation  about  the  sacredness  of  the  com- 
pact which  was  formed  between  the  free  and  the  slave  states 
m  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution.  A  sacred  compact,  forsooth! 
We  pronounce  it  the  most  bloody  and  heaven-daring  arrangement 
5ver  made  by  men  for  the  continuance  and  protection  of  a  system 


182  WERNER'S   READINGS 

of  the  most  atrocious  villany  ever  exhibited  on  earth.  Yes,  w 
recognize  the  compact,  but  with  feelings  of  shame  and  indignation 
and  it  will  be  held  in  everlasting  infamy  by  the  friends  of  justic 
and  humanity  throughout  the  world.  It  was  a  compact  formed  a 
the  sacrifice  of  the  bodies  and  souls  of  millions  of  our  race,  for  th 
sake  of  achieving  a  political  object — -an  unblushing  and  monstrou 
coalition  to  do  evil  that  good  might  come. 

Such  a  compact  was,  in  the  nature  of  things  and  according  t 
the  law  of  God,  null  and  void  from  the  beginning.  No  body  o 
men  ever  had  the  right  to  guarantee  the  holding  of  human  being 
in  bondage.  Who  or  what  were  the  framers  of  our  government 
that  they  should  dare  confirm  and  authorize  such  high-handei 
villany,  such  a  glaring  violation  of  all  the  precepts  and  injunc 
tions  of  the  Gospel,  such  a  savage  war  upon  a  sixth  part  of  ou 
whole  population?  They  were  men  like  ourselves — as  fallible,  a 
sinful,  as  weak  as  ourselves.  By  the  infamous  bargain  which  the 
made  between  themselves,  they  virtually  dethroned  the  Most  Hig 
God,  and  trampled  beneath  their  feet  their  own  solemn  an< 
heaven-attested  declaration  that  all  men  are  created  equal,  an 
endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain  inalienable  rights,  amon 
which  are  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness.  They  ha 
no  lawful  power  to  bind  themselves  or  their  posterity  for  on 
hour — for  one  moment — by  such  an  unholy  alliance.  It  was  no 
valid  then ;  it  is  not  valid  now.  Still  they  persisted  in  maintain 
ing  it,  and  still  do  their  successors — the  people  of  Massachusetts 
of  New  England,  and  of  the  twelve  free  states,  persist  in  main 
taining  it.  A  sacred  compact!  a  sacred  compact!  What,  then 
is  wicked  and  ignominious? 

It  is  said  that  if  you  agitate  this  question  you  will  divide  th 
Union.  Believe  it  not;  but  should  disunion  follow,  the  fault  wi] 
not  be  yours.  You  must  perform  your  duty  faithfully,  fearlessl 
and  promptly,  and  leave  the  consequences  to  God;  that  dut 
clearly  is  to  cease  from  giving  countenance  and  protection  t  t 
Southern  kidnappers.  Let  them  separate,  if  they  can  muste 
courage  enough — and  the  liberation  of  their  slaves  is  certain.     B 


AND   RECITATIONS.  183 

assured  that  slavery  will  very  speedily  destroy  this  Union  if  it  be 
let  alone.  But  even  if  the  Union  can  be  preserved  by  treading 
upon  the  necks,  spilling  the  blood,  and  destroying  the  souls  of  mill- 
i  ions  of  your  race,  we  say  it  is  not  worth  a  price  like  this,  and  that 
it  is  in  the  highest  degree  criminal  for  you  to  continue  the  present 
compact.  Let  the  pillars  thereof  fall,  let  the  superstructure 
crumble  into  dust,  if  it  must  be  upheld  by  robbery  and  oppression ! 


A  CHANGE  OF  BASE. 


ALBION    W.    TOUKGEE. 


THE  time  had  come  when  he  who  should  untie  the  Gordian 
knot  of  slavery  was  to  appear.     Thousands  of  the  best  and 
■bravest  had  grappled  with  the  problem  in  vain.     Many  a  gallant 
\  knight  had  graven  "liberty"  upon  his  helm,  only  to  find  himself 
esooner  or  later  doing  battle  for  slavery.     The  high  and  the  low  had 
rbeen  baffled.     What  seemed  at  the  beginning  an  insoluble  enigma 
had  grown  daily  more  intricate  and  difficult.     Slavery,  which  had 
grown  from  a  little  speck  to  cover  half  the  political  horizon,  had, 
'•from   the  first,  falsified  all   theories.     Instead    of  dying,  it  had 
flourished;  instead  of  losing  strength,  it  had  gained  power;  instead 
■of  yielding  to  the  sentiment  of  the  world,  it  openly  defied  it.     It 
ruled  not  only  the  states  where  it  existed,  but  those  which  fattened 
on  its  results. 

Some  there  were  who  demanded  the  forcible  removal  of  the 
'^obstacle.  One  man  who  had  not  ceased  to  declare  for  many  years 
that  only  blood  could  wash  away  the  evil,  was  preparing  to  make 
good  his  prophecy.  He  looked  forward  to  a  day  when  the  slave 
Should  win  his  way  to  freedom  by  force.  There  were  many  who 
agreed  with  him  that  there  was  no  other  method.  Some  listened 
(to  his  plans  and  vaguely  indorsed  his  designs.  To  many  they 
Were  partially  disclosed,  but  none  knew  their  details.  He  had  one 
'thought  only — slavery  must  be  destroyed.  He  cared  little  for  the 
Constitution,  or  the  nation  builded  thereon.     Laws,  customs,  and 


184  WERNER'S   READINGS 

institutions  were  nothing  to  him ;  only  the  men  who  were  subject 
to  them  were  sacred  in  his  eyes.  For  him  the  universe  held  but 
two  facts:  God,  who  created  all  things,  and  man,  made  in  His 
image.  That  slavery  was  an  evil  was  all  he  needed  to  know. 
That  it  was  doomed  to  destruction  was,  by  the  mere  fact  of  its  un- 
holiness,  rendered  certain  beyond  question  to  his  mind.  How  it 
should  be  destroyed  he  did  not  care,  he  did  not  know.  That  men 
should  die  in  compassing  its  destruction  he  did  not  doubt;  whether 
one  or  ten  millions,  it  mattered  not.  He  counted  liberty  as  part 
of  the  revealed  Word,  which  he  devoutly  believed ;  and  to  him  it 
was  of  infinitely  less  moment  that  men  should  die  than  that  its 
lightest  syllable  should  fail.  So,  too,  while  he  lived  for  humanity, 
he  thought  it  far  better  that  a  nation  or  a  race  even  should  perish 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  than  that  they  should  live  to  suffer 
wrong.  On  the  plains  of  Kansas,  in  the  swamps  of  the  South, 
among  the  snows  of  the  Adirondacks,  he  thought  of  but  one  j 
thing — how  he  might  redeem  the  slave  from  the  wrong  of  servi- 
tude. Poverty  and  ignorance  and  hopelessness  rocked  his  cradle. 
Laughter  and  tears  were  strangely  mingled  in  his  nature.  Little  by 
little  he  came  to  know  himself.  More  than  thirty  years  he  served 
before  he  knew  that  he  had  a  mission  to  perform.  He  was  always 
a  dreamer.  He  had  few  books  and  no  teachers.  Man  and  nature 
were  the  volumes  which  he  read  most  easily  and  studied  most  as- 
siduously. 

It  has  become  the  fashion  in  these  later  days  to  look  upon  Lincoln 
as  the  accident  of  an  accident,  rather  than  as  the  man  of  the  age — 
the  greatest  of  all  who  have  borne  the  name  American.  It  was  not 
luck  but  intellect  that  brought  him  from  obscurity  to  the  forefront 
of  the  greatest  movement  in  history.  He  alone  of  all  the  men  of 
that  time  had  the  sagacity  to  discover  the  key  of  the  position,  to 
unite  all  the  discordant  elements  in  the  attack  upon  it,  and  to 
hold  them  up  in  the  conflict  till  the  victory  was  won.  Those  who 
saw  the  apparent  ease  with  which  he  achieved  these  results  only 
half  realized  his  greatness.  Pure,  simple,  unassuming,  kindly, 
touched  with  sadness  and  relieved  with  mirth,  but  never  stained 


AND   RECITATIONS.  185 

pith  falsehood  or  treachery  or  any  hint  of  shameful  act ;  his  heart 
ras  tender  as  his  life  was  grand — he  stands  in  history  a  little 
hild  in  his  humility,  a  king  in  power.  Offspring  of  the  sadly- 
mitten  South;  a  nursling  of  the  favored  North;  giant  of  the  great 
Best — his  life  was  the  richest  fruitage  of  the  liberty  he  loved! 


TRUE  STORY  OF  ABRAHAM   LINCOLN. 


>  <  T  'D  like  to  see  the  President,"  a  timid  woman  said. 

1  A  poor  and  tidy  gown  she  wore,  and  on  her  whitening  head 
.  bonnet,  faded  as  her  hair, 
ut  comely  still  with  decent  care. 

round,  on  costly  couches,  sat  statesmen  of  high  degree, 

nd,  conscious  of  their  greatness,  she  stood  back  most  patiently, 

ill  some  coarse  menial,  with  a  smile, 

Thispered  that  she  must  wait  awhile ; 

hen  muttered  "green,"  with  many  a  wink,  till  every  glance  was 

turned 
n  the  poor  woman,  gray  and  old,  while  hot  her  thin  cheeks  burned 
rith  wounded  feelings,  griefs  and  fears, 
nd  her  dim  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

nd  still  the  hours  rolled  onward — still  the  mighty  came  and  went; 
ut  all  neglected  stood  the  dame,  nor  saw  the  President; 
hile  those  whom  fortune  favors  told 
heir  pompous  tales  of  fame  and  gold. 

nd  so  the  sun  came  fainter  down  upon  the  brilliant  floor; 
le  aged  woman  started  at  the  opening  of  a  door, 
id  one  who  caught  her  haggard  eye 
i.l  sudden,  stopped  through  sympathy. 

Oh,  sir,"  she  said,  "  these  many  hours  I've  waited  patiently; 
srhaps  the  President  cannot  be  seen  by  such  as  I ; 


186  WERNERS   READINGS 

I'm  poor  and  old  and  careworn,  too, 
And  he  has  burdens  not  a  few." 

The  stranger  turned — a  sudden  light  seemed  kindled  in  his  eye; 
He  spoke  with  kindly  tone  and  mien,  with  gentle  gravity: 
"  They  should  have  sent  you  in  to  me 
Before  they  did  the  rest,"  said  he. 

The  old  dame  flushed  with  quick  surprise, — was  this  the  nation's 

chief? 
This  grave,  tall  man,  who,  pitying,  said,  "  Come — tell  me  all  your 

grief, 
The  poor  and  needy  never  went 
Unaided  from  the  President." 

She  told  her  simple  tale;  he  heard  with  royal  gentleness; 
Then,  as  her  wrongs  his  interest  woke,  he  promised  her  redress, 
And,  gazing  on  the  silvered  head, 
He  smiled  to  see  her  comforted. 

"  Thank  God!  "  and  freely  fell  her  tears;  "  our  land  is  blest,"  she 

said, 
"  When  one  who  honors  poverty  stands  nobly  at  its  head. 
If  an  old  woman's  benison  be 
Of  any  weight  or  worth  to  thee, 

"  I  give  it  from  a  grateful  heart,  and  heaven  will  surely  hear, 
God  bless  thee,  Abraham  Lincoln — bless  all  that  thou  holdest  dear, 
And  make  thee  glorious  in  the  land 
Now  smitten  by  the  oppressor's  hand ; 

"And  make  thee  strong  to  dare  to  do,  even  though  the  proud 

condemn, 
And  keep  thee  honest,  brave  and  true,  till  thou  hast  conquered 

them; 
And  ere  thou  diest  thou  shalt  see, 
Through  God's  good  grace,  a  nation  free!  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  187 

PICCIOLA. 


IT  was  a  sergeant,  old  and  gray 
Well  singed  and  bronzed  from  siege  and  pillage, 
Went  tramping  in  an  army's  wake, 
Along  the  turnpike  of  the  village. 

For  days  and  nights  the  winding  host 

Had  through  the  little  place  been  marching, 

And  ever  loud  the  rustics  cheered, 

Till  every  throat  was  hoarse  and  parching. 

The  squire  and  farmer,  maid  and  dame, 
All  took  the  sight's  electric  stirring, 

And  hats  were  waved  and  staves  were  sung, 
And  kerchiefs  white  were  countless  whirring. 

They  only  saw  a  gallant  show 

Of  heroes  stalwart  under  banners, 
And  in  the  fierce  heroic  glow, 

'Twas  theirs  to  yield  but  wild  hosannas. 

The  sergeant  heard  the  shrill  hurrahs, 
Where  he  behind  in  step  was  keeping; 

But  glancing  down  beside  the  road 
He  saw  a  little  maid  sit  weeping. 

"And  how  is  this?  "  he  gruffly  said, 

A  moment  pausing  to  regard  her; 
"Why  weepest  thou,  my  little  chit?" 

And  then  she  only  cried  the  harder. 

"And  how  is  this,  my  little  chit," 
The  sturdy  trooper  straight  repeated, 

"  When  all  the  village  cheers  us  on, 
That  you,  in  tears,  apart  are  seated? 


188  WERNER'S  READINGS 

"  We  march  two  hundred  thousand  strong, 
And  that's  a  sight,  my  bah}7  beaut}?, 

To  quicken  silence  into  song, 
And  glorify  the  soldier's  duty." 

"It's  very,  very  grand,  I  know," 
The  little  maid  gave  soft  replying; 

"  And  father,  mother,  brother,  too, 
All  say  ' Hurrah f  while  I  am  crying; 

"But  think,  0  Mr.  Soldier,  think 
How  many  little  sisters'  brothers 

Are  going  all  away  to  fight ; 

And  may  be  killed,  as  well  as  others! " 

"Why,  bless  tbee,  child,"  the  sergeant  said, 
His  brawny  hand  her  curls  caressing, 

"  'Tis  left  for  little  ones  like  you 

To  find  that  war's  not  all  a  blessing." 

And  "  Bless  thee !  "  once  again  he  cried, 

Then  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  indignant, 

And  marched  away  with  wrinkled  brow 
To  stop  the  struggling  tear  benignant. 

And  still  the  ringing  shouts  went  up 

From  doorway,  thatch,  and  fields  of  tillage; 

The  pall  behind  the  standard  seen 
By  one  alone,  of  all  the  village. 

The  oak  and  cedar  bend  and  writhe 

When  roars  the  wind  through  gap  and  braken; 

But  'tis  the  tenderest  reed  of  all 

That  trembles  first  when  earth  is  shaken. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  189 

ON  BOARD  THE  CUMBERLAND,  MARCH  7,  1862. 


GEORGE   H.    BOEER. 


[Copyrighted  by  the  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.  ] 

i  (  ^>  TAND  to  your  guns,  men!"  Morris  cried;  small  need  to 
O     pass  the  word ; 
;Our  men  at  quarters  ranged  themselves  before  the  drum  was  heard. 
And  then  began  the  sailors'  jests:  "  What  thing  is  that,  I  say? 
A  'long-shore  meeting-house  adrift  is  standing  down  the  bay!  " 

A  frown  came  over  Morris'  face;  the  strange,  dark  craft  he  knew: 
"  That  is  the  iron  Merrimac,  manned  by  a  rebel  crew. 
•So  shoot  your  guns  and  point  them  straight ;  before  this  day  goes  by, 
We'll  try  of  what  her  -metal's  made."     A  cheer  was  our  reply. 

'"  Kemember,  boys,  this  flag  of  ours  has  seldom  left  its  place ; 
And  where  it  falls,  the  deck  it  strikes  is  covered  with  disgrace. 
II  ask  but  this;  or  sink  or  swim,  or  live  or  nobly  die, 
l^My  last  sight  upon  earth  may  be  to  see  that  ensign  fly !  " 

Meanwhile,  the  shapeless  iron  mass  came  moving  o'er  the  wave, 
As  gloomy  as  a  passing  hearse,  as  silent  as  the  grave. 
IHer  ports  were  closed ;  from  stem  to  stern  no  sign  of  life  appeared ; 
IWe   wondered,   questioned,   strained  our  eyes,  joked — everything 

but  feared. 

i 

:vShe  reached  our   range.     Our   broadside  rang;  our  heavy  pivots 

roared ; 
And  shot  and  shell,  a  fire  of  hell,  against  her  side  we  poured. 
1  God's  mercy!  from  her  sloping  roof  the  iron  tempest  glanced 
;  A.s  hail  bounds  from  a  cottage-thatch,  and  round  her  leaped  and 

danced! 

Or  when  against  her  dusky  hull  we  struck  a  fair,  full  blow, 
The  mighty,  solid  iron  globes  were  crumbled  up  like  snow. 


190  WERNER'S   READINGS 

On,  on,  with  fast  increasing  speed,  the  silent  monster  came, 
Though  all  our  starboard  battery  was  one  long  line  of  flame. 

She  heeded  not ;  no  guns  she  fired ;  straight  on  our  bows  she  bore ; 
Through  riving  plank  and  crashing  frame  her  furious  way  she! 

tore. 
Alas!  our  beautiful  keen  bow,  that  in  the  fiercest  blast 
So  gently  folded  back  the  seas,  they  hardly  felt  we  passed. 

Alas!  alas!  my  Cumberland,  that  ne'er  knew  grief  before, 

To  be  so  gored,  to  feel  so  deep  the  tusk  of  that  sea-boar! 

Once  more  she  backward  drew  apace ;  once  more  our  side  she  rent, 

Then,  in  the  wantonness  of  hate,  her  broadside  through  us  sent. 

The  dead  and  dying  round  us  lay,  but  our  foeman  lay  abeam ; 
Her  open  port-holes  maddened  us,  we  fired  with  shot  and  scream. 
We  felt  our  vessel  settling  fast ;  we  knew  our  time  was  brief ; 
"Ho!  man  the  pumps!  "  But  they  who  worked,  and  fought  not, 
wept  with  grief. 

"  Oh !  keep  us  but  an  hour  afloat !  oh !  give  us  only  time 
To  mete  unto  yon  rebel  crew  the  measure  of  their  crime! " 
From  captain  down  to  powder-boy,  no  hand  was  idle  then; 
Two  soldiers,  but  by  chance  aboard,  fought  on  like  sailor  men. 

And  when  a  gun's  crew  lost  a  hand,  some  bold  marine  stepped  out, 
And  jerked  his  braided  jacket  off,  and  hauled  the  gun  about. 
Our  forward  magazine  was  drowned,  and  up  from  the  sick-bay 
Crawled  out  the  wounded,  red  with  blood,  and  round  us  gasping 

lay- 
Yes,  cheering,  calling  us  by  name,  struggling  with  failing  breath 
To  keep  their  shipmates  at  the  post  where  glory  strove  with  death. 
With  decks  afloat  and  powder  gone,  the  last  broadside  we  gave 
From  the  guns'  heated  iron  lips  burst  out  beneath  the  wave. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  191 

So    sponges,    rammers,    and   handspikes —  as  men-of-war's    men 

should — 
i  We  placed  within  their  proper  racks,  and  at  our  quarters  stood. 
"Up  to  the  spar-deck!  save  yourselves!"  cried  Selfridge.     "Up, 

my  men ! 
God  grant  that  some  of  us  may  live  to  fight  yon  ship  again !  " 

We  turned;  we  did  not  like  to  go;  yet  staying  seemed  but  vain, 
Knee-deep  in  water;  so  we  left;  some  swore,  some  groaned  with 

pain. 
We  reached  the  deck.    There  Eandall  stood :  "  Another  turn,  men — 

so! " 
Calmly  he  aimed  his  pivot  gun:  "Now,  Tenny,  let  her  go!" 

It  did  our  sore  hearts  good  to  hear  the  song  our  pivot  sang, 
'As  rushing  on  from  wave  to  wave  the  whirring  bomb-shell  sprang. 
Brave  Eandall  leaped  upon  the  gun,  and  waved  his  cap  in  sport; 
1  Well  done !  well  aimed !  I  saw  that  shell  go  through  an  open  port !  " 

It  was  our  last,  our  deadliest  shot;  the  deck  was  overflown 

iThe  poor  ship  staggered,  lurched  to  port,  and  gave  a  living  groan. 

Down,  down,  as  headlong  through  the  waves  our  gallant  vessel 

r  ashed; 
A  thousand  gurgling  watery  sounds  around  my  senses  gushed. 

jThen  I  remember  little  more ;  one  look  to  heaven  I  gave, 
Where,  like  an  angel's  wing,  I  saw  our  spotless  ensign  wave. 
I  tried  to  cheer.     I  cannot  say  whether  I  swam  or  sank ; 
;A  blue  mist  closed  around  my  eyes,  and  everything  was  blank. 

When  I  awoke,  a  soldier  lad,  all  dripping  from  the  sea, 
With  two  great  tears  upon  his  cheeks,  was  bending  over  me. 
I  tried  to  speak.     He  understood  the  wish  I  could  not  speak. 
He  turned  me.     There,  thank  God !  the  flag  still  fluttered  at  the 
peak! 


192  WERNER'S   READINGS 

And  there,  while  thread  shall  hang  to  thread,  oh,  let  that  ensign 

fly! 
The  noblest  constellation  set  against  the  northern  sky, — 
A  sign  that  we  who  live  may  claim  the  peerage  of  the  brave; 
A  monument  that  needs  no  scroll,  for  those  beneath  the  wave. 


THE  WOOD  OF  CHANCELLORSVILLE. 


DELIA    E.    GERMAN. 


THE  ripe,  red  berries  of  the  wintergreen 
Lure  me  to  pause  awhile 
In  this  deep,  tangled  wood.     I  stop  and  lean 

Down  where  these  wild  flowers  smile, 

And  rest  me  in  this  shade;  for  many  a  mile 
Through  lane  and  dusty  street, 
I've  walked  with  weary,  weary  feet ; 
And  now  I  tarry  'mid  this  woodland  scene, 
Long  ferns  and  mosses  sweet. 
Here  all  around  me  blows  the  pale  primrose. 
I  wonder  if  the  gentle  blossom  knows 
The  feeling  at  my  heart — the  solemn  grief 

So  whelming  and  so  deep 
That  it  disdains  relief, 

And  will  not  let  me  weep. 
I  wonder  that  the  woodbine  thrives  and  grows, 
And  is  indifferent  to  the  nation's  woes; 
For  while  these  mornings  shine,  these  blossoms  bloom. 
Impious  rebellion  wraps  the  land  in  gloom. 

Nature,  thou  art  unkind, 
Unsympathizing,  blind! 

Yon  lichen,  clinging  to  th'  o'erhanging  rock, 
Is  happy,  and  each  blade  of  grass 
O'er  which  unconsciously  I  pass, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  193 

Smiles  in  my  face  and  seems  to  mock 
Me  with  its  joy.     Alas!  I  cannot  find 
One  charm  in  bounteous  nature,  while  the  wind 
That  blows  upon  my  cheek  bears  on  each  gust 
The  groans  of  my  poor  country,  bleeding  in  the  dust. 
The  air  is  musical  with  notes 
That  gush  from  winged  warblers'  throats, 
And  in  the  leafy  trees 
I  hear  the  drowsy  hum  of  bees. 

Prone  from  the  blinding  sky 
Dance  rainbow-tinted  sunbeams,  thick  with  motes, 

Daisies  are  shining,  and  the  butterfly 
Wavers  from  flower  to  flower ;  yet  in  this  wood 
The  ruthless  foeman  stood, 
And  every  turf  is  drenched  with  human  blood. 

0  heartless  flowers! 

0  trees !  clad  in  your  robes  of  glistening  sheen, 

Put  off  this  canopy  of  gorgeous  green! 
These  are  the  hours 
For  mourning,  not  for  gladness. 
While  this  smart 

Of  treason  dire  gashes  the  nation's  heart, 
Let  birds  refuse  to  sing, 
And  flowers  to  bloom  upon  the  lap  of  spring! 
Let  nature's  face  itself  with  tears  o'erflow, 
In  deepest  anguish  for  a  people's  woe. 
While  rank  rebellion  stands 
With  blood  of  martyrs  on  his  impious  hands; 

While  slavery  and  chains, 
And  cruelty  and  direst  hate, 
Uplift  their  heads,  within  th'  afflicted  state, 

And  freeze  the  blood  in  every  patriot's  veins, — 
Let  these  old  woodlands  fair 
Grow  black  with  gloom,  and  from  its  thunder-lair 
13 


194  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Let  lightning  leap,  and  scorch  the  accursed  air, 

Until  the  suffering  earth, 

Of  treason  sick,  shall  spew  the  monster  forth, 

And  each  regenerate  sod 

Be  consecrate  anew  to  freedom  and  to  God! 


HIGH  TIDE  AT   GETTYSBURG. 


WILL   H.    THOMPSON. 


A   CLOUD  possessed  the  hollow  field, 
The  gathering  battle's  smoky  shield; 
Athwart  the  gloom  the  lightning  flashed, 
And  through  the  cloud  some  horsemen  dashed 
And  from  the  heights  the  thunder  pealed. 

Then  at  the  brief  command  of  Lee 
Moved  out  that  matchless  infantry, 
With  Pickett  leading  grandly  down, 
To  rush  against  the  roaring  crown 
Of  those  dread  heights  of  destiny. 

Far  heard  above  the  angry  guns 

A  cry  across  the  tumult  runs — 

The  voice  that  rang  through  Shiloh's  woods 

And  Chickamauga's  solitudes — 

The  fierce  South  cheering  on  her  sons! 

Ah,  how  the  withering  tempest  blew 
Against  the  front  of  Pettigrew! 
A  Kamsin  wind  that  scorched  and  singed 
Like  that  infernal  flame  that  fringed 
The  British  squares  at  Waterloo! 

"  Once  more  in  glory's  van  with  me!  " 
Virginia  cried  to  Tennessee; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  195 

"  We  two  together,  come  what  may, 
Shall  stand  upon  those  works  to-day !  " 
(The  reddest  day  in  history.) 

But  who  shall  break  the  guards  that  wait 
Before  the  awful  face  of  fate? 
The  tattered  standards  of  the  South 
Were  shrivelled  at  the  cannon's  mouth, 
And  all  her  hopes  were  desolate- 
In  vain  the  Tennessean  set 
His  breast  against  the  bayonet ! 
In  vain  Virginia  charged  and  raged, 
A  tigress  in  her  wrath  uncaged, 
Till  all  the  hill  was  red  and  wet ! 

Above  the  bayonets,  mixed  and  crossed, 
Men  saw  a  gray  gigantic  ghost 
Receding  through  the  battle-cloud, 
And  heard  across  the  tempest  loud 
The  death-cry  of  a  nation  lost! 

The  brave  went  down !     Without  disgrace 
They  leaped  to  ruin's  red  embrace, 
They  only  heard  fame's  thunders  wake, 
And  saw  the  dazzling  sun-burst  break 
In  smiles  on  glory's  bloody  face. 

They  fell,  who  lifted  up  a  hand 
And  bade  the  sun  in  heaven  to  stand! 
They  smote  and  fell,  who  set  the  bars 
Against  the  progress  of  the  stars, 
And  stayed  the  march  of  mother-land. 

They  stood,  who  saw  the  future  come 
On  through  the  fight's  delirium! 


196  WERNER'S   READINGS 

They  smote  and  stood,  who  held  the  hope 
Of  nations  on  that  slippery  slope 
Amid  the  cheers  of  Christendom! 

God  lives !     He  forged  the  iron  will 
That  clutched  and  held  that  trembling  hill- 
God  lives  and  reigns!     He  built  and  lent 
The  heights  for  freedom's  battlement 
Where  floats  her  flag  in  triumph  still ! 

Fold  up  the  banners!     Smelt  the  guns! 
Love  rules.     Her  gentler  purpose  runs. 
A  mighty  mother  turns  in  tears 
The  pages  of  her  battle  years, 
Lamenting  all  her  fallen  sons! 


THE  REASON  WHY. 


J.    P.    PEICKETT. 


[The  assault  on  Port  Hudson  was  pending.  It  was  to  test  the  fitness 
of  the  colored  race  for  freedom.  The  white  colonel  of  the  colored  regi- 
ment called  the  colored  standard-bearer  to  him  and  implored  him  not  to 
dishonor  the  flag  and  bring  reproach  upon  his  race  by  being  recreant  to 
duty.  This  lowly  representative  of  a  despised  people  replied,  "'I'll  bring 
these  colors  back  with  honor  or  report  to  God  the  reason  why. "] 


THERE,  like  ebon  statues  in  the  starlight,  stood  the  Black  Bri- 
gade, 
As  adown  the  ranks  the  colonel  strode,  and,  walking,  silent  prayed ; 
Prayed  that  God  might  fill  with  patriot  zeal  each  darkened  soul, 

and  light 
In  each  lowly  breast  a  bright  pathway  to  freedom's  new  birthright; 
That  these  new-born  sons  of  freedom,  in  whose  swelling  hearts  and 

breasts 
Burned  the  memories  of  centuries  of  bondage  and  of  wrong, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  107 

In  the  morrow's  dreadful  slaughter,    might,   as  heroes  bear  the 

-tests — ■ 
In  their  race's  vindication  might  be  brave  and  true  and  strong. 

Over  yonder  in  the  moonlight  floated  out  the  Stars  and  Bars; 
Here  the  Black  Brigade  in  silence  stood  beneath  the  Stripes  and 

Stars. 
Over  there  were  trained  artill'rymen  asleep  by  silent  guns; 
Here  were  loyal  hearts  in   swelling  breasts  of  freedom's  new-born 

sons, 
Eaised  from  chattelhood  to  manhood  by  the  stroke  of  patriot  pen, 
Wond'ringly,  and  sometimes  doubting,  loyal  hearts  looked  on  to 

see 
If  these  slaves  and  serfs  and  chattels,  lifted  to  the  plane  of  men, 
In  the  shock  of  strife  and  battle  won  their  right  to  liberty. 

'Twas  the  morning  of  the  battle,  and  the  colonel's  heart  was  sore; 
Knowing  well  that  with  the  rise  of  sun  the  cannon's  awful  roar 
Would  reverberate  from  hill  to  plain,  and  death  in  blood  arrayed, 
Striking  grim  in  smoke  of  conflict  would  assail  his  Black  Brigade. 
Would  they  prove  by  deeds  of  valor  in  the  carnage  of  war's  stage, 
That  their  race,  despite  its  bondage,  was  entitled  to  be  free? 
Would  they  write  in  bloody  characters  on  hist'ry's  living  page? 
Write  a  race's  right  to  freedom — write  a  race's  destiny? 

Grimly  stood  these  erstwhile  chattels — freemen  now,  of  dusky  hue — 
Bay 'nets  gleaming  in  the  starlight;  what  their  thoughts — ah,  no 

one  knew ! 
Would  they  stand  the  test  of  freemen?     Would  they  craven  prove 

and  quail? 
Would  they  stains  of  slavery  wipe  out  in  the  battle's  leaden  hail? 
Had  the  iron-rust  of  bondage  entered  deeply  in  the  soul? 
Had  the  cruelty  of  centuries  the  springs  of  manhood  dried? 
Would  they,  in  the  blood  of  conflict  and  the  battle's  awful  roll, 
Prove,  despite  the  years  of   bondage,   patriots,  heroes,  true  and 

tried? 


198  WERNER'S    HEADINGS 

Said  he  to  the  color-bearer,  and  his  voice  was  earnest,  low: 
"Ere  the  coming  day  is  ended  patriot  blood  will  freely  flow; 
In  the  wild  assault  on  frowning  guns,  think  only  of  the  years 
Of  your  race's  cruel  bondage,  of  its  groans  and  cries  and  tears, 
"lis  the  starry  flag  of  freedom  that  you  bear  aloft  to-day; 
Bear  it  bravely  in  the  conflict,  and  your  race  is  ever  free; 
Do  not  falter;  bear  it  proudly  in  the  thickest  of  the  fray; 
Let  this  day  in  blood  inaugurate  your  race's  jubilee." 

Then  up  spoke  the  color-bearer,  and  his  face  in  starlight's  gleam 
Glowed  with  patriotic  fire  and  ardor,  as  the  past — a  horrid  dream — 
Drifted  by  with  all  its  cruelty,  its  bondage,  and  its  wrong, 
And  his  voice  showed  in  its  firm  tones  that  his  heart  was  true  and 

strong : 
"  Though  my  race  has  been  in  serfdom,  yet  we're  freemen  here  to- 
night. 
And  the  Stars  and  Stripes  our  beacon  light  that  gleams  athwart 

the  sky. 
Yes,  I'll  bring  it  back  in  honor,  bear  it  bravely  in  the  right, 
Or  beyond  the  mystic  river  tell  to  God  the  reason  why." 

'Twas  a  horrid  day  of  slaughter,  and  the  crash  of  shot  and  shell 
Told  that  men  were  bravely  battling  for  the  cause  they  loved  so 

well. 
A  shout,  a  cheer,  a  wild  assault — and  then  the  Stripes  and  Stars 
Floated  proudly  from  the  ramparts  where  had  waved  the  Stars  and 

Bars. 
Bravely  fought  the  dusky  Black  Brigade;  in  blood  had  rent  the 

chains ; — 
Chains  of  slavery  from  a  fettered  race;  and  where,  in  blood,  they'd 

trod, 
Lay,  in  death,  the  color-bearer;  his  life's  blood  the  banner  stains. 
Ah,  beyond  the  silent  river,  he's  reporting  now  fa  ^od! 


AND   RECITATIONS.  199 

FOR  FREEDOM. 


EDNA    DEAN    PROCTOR. 


[Response  of  the  Colored  Soldiers  to  the  Call  of  the  President,  Jan.,  1864.] 

THANK  God !     'Tis  the  war  cry!     They  call  us!     We  come! 
Clear  summons  the  bugle,  bold  beckons  the  drum ! 
Our  "  Eeady"  rings  clearer;  our  hearts  bolder  beat 
As  under  the  bright  flag  rejoicing  we  meet; 
For  still  we  have  trusted,  through  darkest  delay, 
That  the  flash  of  these  guns  would  be  dawn  of  our  day. 

'Tis  dawning!   'tis  morning!  the  hills  are  aglow ! 
God's  angels  roll  backward  the  clouds  of  our  woe! 
One  grasp  of  the  rifle,  one  glimpse  of  the  fray, 
And  chattel  and  bondman  have  vanished  for  aye! 
Stern  men  they  will  find  us  who  venture  to  feel 
The  shock  of  our  cannon,  the  thrust  of  our  steel. 

The  bright  flag  above  us  exultant  we  hail ; 

Beneath  it  what  rapture  the  ramparts  to  scale! 

Or,  true  to  our  leader,  o'er  mountain,  through  hollow, 

Its  stars  never-setting,  with  fleet  foot  to  follow, 

Till,  shrill  for  the  battle,  the  bugle-notes  blow, 

And  proudly  we  plant  it  in  face  of  the  foe! 

And  then,  when  the  conflict  is  done,  in  the  gleam 

Of  the  camp-fire  at  midnight,  how  gayly  we'll  dream: 

The  slave  is  the  citizen — coveted  name 

That  lifts  him  from  loathing,  that  shields  him  from  shame! 

His  cottage  unravished;  and,  gladsome  as  he, 

His  wife  by  the  hearthstone,  his  babe  on  her  knee. 

The  cotton  grows  fair  by  the  sea,  as  of  old ; 
The  cane  yields  its  sugar,  the  orange  its  gold ; 


200  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Light  rustle  the  corn-leaves ;  the  rice-fields  are  green ; 
And,  free  as  the  white  man,  he  smiles  on  the  scene; 
The  drum  beats — we  start  from  our  slumbers  and  pray 
That  the  dream  of  the  night  find  an  answering  day. 

To  God  be  the  glory!     They  call  us!     We  come! 
How  welcome  the  watchword,  the  hurry,  the  hum ! 
Our  hearts  are  on  fire  as  our  good  swords  we  bare; 
"For  freedom!  for  freedom!"  soft  echoes  the  air. 
The  bugles  ring  cheerly;  the  banners  float  high; 
0  comrades,  strike  boldly!     Our  triumph  is  nigh! 


THE   BATTLE  OF   LOOKOUT   MOUNTAIN. 


GEORGE    H.    BOKER. 


[Copyrighted  by  the  J.  B.  Lippincott  Co.] 

6  '  /""^  IVE  me    but   two    brigades,"   said    Hooker,  frowning   at 

V_J     fortified  Lookout, 
"  And  I'll  engage  to  sweep  yon  mountain  clear  of  that  mocking 

rebel  rout!  " 
At  early  morning  came  an  order  that  set  the  general's  face  aglow: 
"Now,"  said  he  to  his  staff,  "draw  out  my  soldiers.     Grant  says 
that  I  may  go!  " 

Hither  and  thither  dashed  each  eager  colonel  to  join  his  regiment, 

While  a  low  rumor  of  the  daring  purpose  ran  on  from  tent  to  tent; 

For  the  long-roll  was  sounding  in  the  valley,  and  the  keen  trum- 
pets' bray, 

And  the  wild  laughter  of  the  swarthy  veterans,  who  cried,  "  We 
fight  to-day!  " 

The  solid  tramp  of  infantry,  the  rumble  of  the  great  jolting  gun, 
The  sharp,  clear  order,  and  the  fierce  steeds  neighing,  "  Why's  not 
the  fight  begun?  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  201 

All  these  plain  harbingers  of  sudden  conflict  broke  on  the  startled 

ear; 
And,  last,  arose  a  sound  that  made  your  blood  leap — the  ringing 

battle-cheer. 

|  The  lower  works  were  carried  at  one  onset.      Like  a  vast  roaring 

sea 
Of  steel  and  fire,  our  soldiers  from  the  trenches  swept  out  the 

enemy ; 
And  we  could  see  the  gray-coats  swarming  up  from  the  mountain's 

leafy  base, 
To  join  their  comrades  in  the  higher  fastness — for  life  or  death 

the  race! 

IThen  our  long  line  went  winding  round  the  mountain  in  a  huge 

serpent  track, 
'And  the  slant  sun  upon  it  flashed  and  glimmered  as  on  a  dragon's 

back. 
Higher  and  higher  the  column's  head  pushed  onward  ere  the  rear 

moved  a  man ; 
And  soon  the  skirmish-lines  their  straggling  volleys  and  single 

shots  began. 

Then  the  bald  head  of  Lookout  flamed  and  bellowed,  and  all  its 

batteries  woke, 
And  down  the  mountain  poured  the  bomb-shells,  puffing  into  our 

eyes  their  smoke; 
And  balls  and  grape-shot  rained  upon  our  column,  that  bore  the 

angry  shower 
As  if  it  were  no  more  than  that  soft  dropping  which  scarcely  stirs 

the  flower. 

0  glorious    courage  that  inspires  the  hero,  and  runs  through   all 

his  men ! 
The  heart   that  failed  beside   the   Kappahannock,  it  was    itself 

again ! 


202  WERNER'S   READINGS 

The  star  that  circumstance  and  jealous  faction  shrouded  in  envious 

night, 
Here  shone  with  all  the  splendor  of  its  nature,  and  with  a  freer 

flight! 

Hark !  hark !  there  go  the  well-known  crashing  volleys,  the  long- 
continued  roar, 

That  swells  and  falls,  but  never  ceases  wholly  until  the  fight  is  o'er. 

Up  toward  the  crystal  gates  of  heaven  ascending,  the  mortal  tem- 
pests beat, 

As  if  they  sought  to  try  their  cause  together  before  God's  very  feet! 

We  saw  our  troops  had  gained  a  footing  almost  beneath  the  top- 
most ledge, 

And  back  and  forth  the  rival  lines  went  surging  upon  the  dizzy 
edge. 

Sometimes  we  saw  our  men  fall  backward  slowly,  and  groaned  in 
our  despair; 

Or  cheered  when  now  and  then  a  stricken  rebel  plunged  out  in 
open  air, 

Down,  down,  a  thousand  empty  fathoms  dropping,  his  God  alone 
knows  where ! 

At  eve  thick  haze  upon  the  mountain  gathered,  with  rising  smoke 

stained  black, 
And  not  a  glimpse  of  the  contending  armies  shone  through  the 

swirling  rack. 
Night  fell  o'er  all;  but  still  they  flashed  their  lightnings  and  rolled 

their  thunders  loud, 
Though  no  man  knew  upon  what  side  was  going  that  battle  in  the 

cloud. 

Night !  what  a  night  of  anxious  thought  and  wonder !  but  still  no 

tidings  came 
From  the  bare  summit  of  the  trembling  mountain,  still  wrapped. 

in  mist  and  flame. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  203 

But  toward  the  sleepless  dawn,  stillness,  more  dreadful  than  the 

fierce  sound  of  war, 
Settled  o'er  nature,  as  if  she  stood  breathless  before  the  morning 

star. 

As  the  sun  rose,  dense  clouds  of  smoky  vapor  boiled  from  the 
valley's  deeps, 

Dragging  their  torn  and  ragged  edges  slowly  up  through  the  tree- 
clad  steeps, 

And  rose  and  rose,  till  Lookout,  like  a  vision,  above  us  grandly 
stood, 

And  over  his  black  crags  and  storm-blanched  headlands  burst  the 
warm  golden  flood. 

'  Thousands  of  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  mountain,  and  thousands 
held  their  breath, 

And  the  vast  army,  in  the  valley  watching,  seemed  touched  with 
sudden  death. 

High  o'er  us  soared  great  Lookout,  robed  in  purple,  a  glory  on  his 
face, 

A  human  meaning  in  his  hard,  calm  features  beneath  that  heav- 
enly grace. 

'Out  on  a  crag  walked  something.     What!    an  eagle  that  treads 

yon  giddy  height? 
!  Surely,  no  man!     But  still  he  clambered  forward  into  the  full,  rich 

light; 
'  Then  up  he  started  with  a  sudden  motion,  and  from  the  blazing 

crag 
I  Flung  to  the  morning  breeze  and  sunny  radiance  the  dear  old  starry 

flag! 

.Ah!  then   what  followed?     Scarred   and  war-worn  soldiers,  like 

girls,  flushed  through  their  tan, 
And  down  the  thousand  wrinkles  of  the  battles  a  thousand  tear- 
drops ran; 


204  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Men  seized  each  other  in  returned  embraces,  and  sobbed  for  very 

love; 
A  spirit  which  made  all  that  moment  brothers  seemed  falling  from 

above. 

And,  as  we  gazed,  around  the  mountain's  summit  our  glittering 

files  appeared; 
Into  the  rebel  works  we  saw  them  marching;  and  we — we  cheered, 

we  cheered! 
And  they  above  waved  all  their  flags  before  us,  and  joined  our 

frantic  shout, 
Standing,  like  demigods,  in  light  and  triumph,  upon  their  own 

Lookout ! 


THE  FIGHT  OF  LOOKOUT. 


RICHARD    L.    CARY,    JR. 


HEKE,  sit  ye  down  'longside  of  me:  I'm  getting  old  and  gray; 
But  something  in  the  paper,  boy,  has  riled  my  blood  to-day, 
To  steal  a  purse  is  mean  enough,  the  most  of  men  agree ; 
But  stealing  reputation  seems  a  meaner  thing  to  me. 

A  letter  in  the  Herald  says  some  generals  allow 

That  there  wa'n't  no  fight  where  Lookout  rears  aloft  its  shaggy 

brow; 
But  this  coat-sleeve  swinging  empty  here  beside  me,  boy,  to-day 
Tells  a  mighty  different  story  in  a  mighty  different  way. 

When  sunbeams  flashed  o'er  Mission  Ridge  that  bright  November 

morn, 
The  misty  cap  on  Lookout's  crest  gave  tokens  of  the  storm; 
For  grim  King  Death  had  draped  the  mount  in  grayish,  smoky 

shrouds ; 
Its  craggy  peaks  were  lost  to  sight  above  the  fleecy  clouds. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  205 

Just  at  the  mountain's  rocky  base  we  formed  in  serried  lines, 
While  lightning,  with  its  jagged  edge,  played  on  us  from  the  pines; 
The  mission  ours  to  storm  the  pits  'neath  Lookout's  crest  that  lay — ■ 
We  stormed  the  very  gates  of  hell  with  Fighting  Joe  that  day. 

The  mountain  seemed  to  vomit  flames ;  the  boom  of  heavy  guns 
Played  bass  to  Dixie's  music,  while  a  treble  played  the  drums; 
The  eagles,  waking  from  their  sleep,  looked  down  upon  the  stars 
Slow  climbing  up  the  mountain's  side  with  morning's  broken  bars. 

We  kept  our  eyes  upon  the  flag  that  upward  led  the  way, 

Until  we  lost  it  in  the  smoke  on  Lookout's  side  that  day; 

And  then,  like  demons  loosed  from  hell,  we  clambered  up  the  crag, 

"  Excelsior"  our  motto,  and  our  mission  "  Save  the  flag!  " 

In  answer  to  the  rebel  yell,  we  gave  a  ringing  cheer; 

We  left  the  rifle-pits  behind,  the  crest  loomed  upward  near; 

A  light  wind  playing   'long  the  peaks  just  lifted  Death's  gray 

shroud; 
We  caught  a  gleam  of  silver  stars  just  breaking  through  the  cloud. 

A  shattered  arm  hung  at  my  side  that  day  on  Lookout's  crag, 
And  yet  I'd  give  the  other  now  to  save  the  dear  old  flag. 
The  regimental  roll,  when  called  on  Lookout's  crest  that  night, 
Was  more  than  doubled  by  the  roll  Death  called  in  realms  of  light. 

Just  as  the  sun  sank  slowly  down  behind  the  mountain's  crest, 
When  mountain-peaks  gave  back   the  fire  that  flamed  along  the 

West, 
Swift  riding  down  along  the  ridge  upon  a  charger  white 
Came  "  Fighting  Joe,"  the  hero  now  of  Lookout's  famous  fight. 

He  swung  his  cap  as  tears  of  joy  slow  trickled  down  his  cheek, 
And  as  our  cheering  died  away  the  general  tried  to  speak. 
He  said :    "  Boys,  I'll  court-martial  you — yes,  every  man  that's  here ; 
I  said  to  take  the  rifle-pits" — we  stopped  him  with  a  cheer — 


206  WERNER'S   READINGS 

"  I  said  to  take  the  rifle-pits  upon  the  mountain's  edge, 

And  I'll  court-martial  you  because — because  you  took  the  ridge!" 

Then  such  a  laugh  as  swept  the  ridge  where  late  King  Death  had 

strode ! 
And  such  a  cheer  as  rent  the  skies,  as  down  our  lines  he  rode! 
I'm  getting  old  and  feeble;  I've  not  long  to  live,  I  know; 
But  there  was  a  fight  at  Lookout — I  was  there  with  Fighting  Joe ! 

So  them  generals  in  the  Herald,  they  may  reckon  and  allow 

That  there  wa'n't  no  fight  at  Lookout  on  the  mountain's  shaggy 

brow ; 
But  this  empty  coat-sleeve  swinging  here  beside  me,  boy,  to-day 
Tells  a  mighty  different  story  in  a  mighty  different  way. 


THE  BATTLE  ABOVE  THE  CLOUDS. 


THERON    BROWN. 


[Gen.  Sherman  joined  Gen.  Grant  in  November,  1863.  On  the  23d, 
24th  and  25th  of  that  month  were  fought  the  famous  battles  of  Missionary 
Ridge  and  Lookout  Mountain.] 


BY  the  banks  of  Chattanooga,  watching  with  a  soldier's  heed, 
In  the  chilly,  autumn  morning,  gallant  Grant  was  on  his 
steed; 
For  the  foe  had  climbed  above  him,  with  the  banners  of  their  land, 
And  their  cannon  swept  the  river  from  the  hills  of  Cumberland. 

Like  a  trumpet  rang  his  orders :  "  Howard,  Thomas  to  the  Bridge ! 
One  brigade  aboard  the  Dunbar,  storm  the  heights  of  Mission  Ridge ! 
On  the  left,  the  ledges,  Sherman,  charge,  and  hurl  the  rebels  down; 
Hooker,  take  the  steeps  of  Lookout,  and  the  slope  before  the  town." 

Fearless,  from  the  Northern  summit,  looked  the  traitors,  where 

they  lay, 
On  the  gleaming  Union  army,  marshalled  as  for  muster-day; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  207 

Till  the  sudden  shout  of  battle  thundered  upward  from  the  farms, 
And  they  dropped  their  idle  glasses,  in  a  sudden  rush  to  arms. 

Then  together  up  the  highlands  surely,  swiftly  swept  the  lines, 
And  the  clang  of  war  above  them  swelled  with  loud  and  louder  signs, 
Till  the  loyal  peaks  of  Lookout  in  the  tempest  seemed  to  throb, 
And  the  star-flag  of  our  country  soared  in  smoke  o'er  Orchard  Knob. 

Day  and  night  and  day  returning,  ceaseless  shock  and  ceaseless 

change, 
Still  the  furious  mountain  conflict  burst  and  burned  along  the 

range ; 
While  with  battle's  cloud  of  sulphur  mingled  heaven's  mist  of  rain, 
Till  the  ascending  squadron  vanished  from  the  gazers  on  the  plain. 

From  the  boats  upon  the  river,  from  the  tents  upon  the  shore, 
From  the  roofs  of  yonder  city,  anxious  eyes  the  clouds  explore; 
But  no  rift  amid  the  darkness  shows  them  fathers,  brothers,  sons, 
Where  they  trace  the  viewless  struggle  by  the  echo  of  the  guns. 

Upward!  charge  for  God  and  country!  up!  aha,  they  rush,  they 

rise, 
Till  the  faithful  meet  the  faithless  in  the  never-clouded  skies, 
And  the  battle-field  is  bloody,  where  a  dewdrop  never  falls, 
For  a  voice  of  tearless  justice  for  a  tearless  vengeance  calls! 

And  the  heaven  is  wild  with  shouting;  fiery  shot  and  bayonet  keen 
Gleam  and  glance  where  freedom's  angels  battle  in  the  blue  serene. 
Charge  and  volley  fiercely  follow,  and  the  tumult  in  the  air 
Tells  of  right  in  mortal  grapple  with  rebellion's  strong  despair. 

They  have  conquered !    God's  own  legions ;  well  their  foes  might  be 

dismayed, 
Standing  in  the  mountain  temple,  'gainst  the  terrors  of  His  aid. 
And  the  clouds  might  fitly  echo  pagan  loud  and  parting  gun, 
When,  from  upper  light  and  glory,  sank  the  traitor  host  undone 


208  WERNER'S   READINGS 

They  have  conquered!     Through  the  region  where  our  brothers 

plucked  the  palm 
Rings  the  noise  with  which  they  won  it  with  the  sweetness  of  a 

psalm ; 
And  our  wounded  sick  and  dying  hear  it  in  their  crowded  wards, 
And  they  whisper,  "  Heaven  is  with  us !  lo,  our  battle  is  the  Lord's !" 

And  our  famished  captive  heroes,  locked  in  Richmond's  prison-hells, 
List  those  guns  of  cloudland  booming,  glad  as  freedom's  morning 

bells, 
Lift  their  haggard  eyes,  and,  panting,  with  their  cheeks  against  the 

bars, 
Feel  God's  breath  of  hope  and  see  it  playing  with  the  Stripes  and 

Stars. 

Tories  safe  in  serpent  treason  startle  as  those  airy  cheers 
And  that  wild,  ethereal  war-drum  falls  like  doom  upon  their  ears; 
And  that  rush  of  cloud-borne  armies  rolling  back  a  nation's  shame 
Frights  them  with   its  sound  of  judgment,  and  the  flash  of  angry 
flame. 

Widows  weeping  by  their  firesides,  loyal  sires  despondent  grown, 
Smile  to  hear  their  country's  triumph  from  the  gate  of  heaven 

blown ; 
And  the  patriots'  children  wonder  in  their  simple  hearts  to  know 
In  the  land  above  the  thunder  our  embattled  champions  go. 


CASSY. 


HAEEIET   BEECHER    STOWE. 


ONE  morning,  when  the  hands  were  mustered  for  the  field, 
Tom  noticed,  with  surprise,  a  new-comer  among  them, 
whose  appearance  excited  his  attention.  It  was  a  woman,  tall  and 
slenderly  formed,  with  remarkably  delicate  hands  and  feet,  and 
dressed  in  neat  and  respectable  garments.     Where  she  came  from, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  209 

or  Avho  she  was,  Tom  did  not  know.  The  first  he  did  know,  she- 
was  walking  by  his  side,  erect  and  proud  in  the  dim  gray  of  the 
dawn.  To  the  gang,  however,  she  was  known,  for  there  was  much 
looking  and  turning  of  heads,  and  a  smothered  yet  apparent  exulta- 
tion among  the  miserable,  ragged,  half-starved  creatures  by  whom 
she  was  surrounded. 

"  Got  to  come  to  it  at  last;  glad  of  it!  "  said  one. 

"Ha!  he!  he!"  said  another;  "you'll  know  how  good  it  is, 
Missie!  " 

"  We'll  see  her  work!  " 

"  Wonder  if  she'll  get  a  cutting  up,  at  night,  like  the  rest  of 
us!  " 

"  I'd  be  glad  to  see  her  down  for  a  flogging,  I'll  be  bound!" 
said  another. 

The  woman  took  no  notice  of  these  taunts,  but  walked  on,  with 
the  same  expression  of  angry  scorn,  as  if  she  heard  nothing.  Tom 
had  always  lived  among  refined  and  cultivated  people,  and  he  felt 
intuitively,  from  her  air  and  bearing,  that  she  belonged  to  that 
class;  but  how  or  why  she  could  be  fallen  to  those  degrading 
circumstances  he  could  not  tell.  The  woman  neither  looked  at 
him  nor  spoke  to  him,  though,  all  the  way  to  the  field,  she  kept 
close  to  his  side. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  Tom  was  wrorking  near  the  mulatto 
woman  who  had  been  bought  in  the  same  lot  with  himself.  She 
was  evidently  in  a  condition  of  great  suffering,  and  Tom  often 
heard  her  praying,  as  she  wavered  and  trembled,  and  seemed  about 
to  fall  down.  Tom  silently,  as  he  came  near  to  her,  transferred 
several  handfuls  of  cotton  from  his  own  sack  to  hers. 

"Oh,  don't,  don't!"  said  the  woman,  looking  surprised;  "it'll 
get  you  into  trouble." 

Just  then  Sambo  came  up.  He  seemed  to  have  a  special  spite 
against  this  woman;  and,  flourishing  his  whip,  said,  in  brutal, 
guttural  tones,  "What  dis  yer,  Luce, — foolin'?"  and,  with  the 
word,  kicking  the  woman  with  his  heavy  cowhide  shoe,  he  struck 
Tom  across  the  face  with  his  whip. 
14 


210  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Tom  silently  resumed  his  task ;  but  the  woman,  before  at  the 
last  point  of  exhaustion,  fainted. 

"I'll  bring  her  to!  "  said  the  driver,  with  a  brutal  grin.  "I'll 
give  her  something  better  than  camphire ! "  and  taking  a  pin 
from  his  coat-sleeve  he  buried  it  to  the  head  in  her  flesh.  The 
woman  groaned,  and  half  rose.  "  Get  up,  you  beast,  and  work, 
will  yer,  or  I'll  show  yer  a  trick  more!  " 

The  woman  seemed  stimulated,  for  a  few  moments,  to  an  un- 
natural strength,  and  worked  with  desperate  eagerness. 

"See  that  you  keep  to  dat  ar,"  said  the  man,  "or  yer'll  wish 
yer's  dead  to-night,  I  reckin!  " 

At  the  risk  of  all  that  he  might  suffer,  Tom  came  forward  again, 
and  put  all  the  cotton  in  his  sack  into  the  woman's. 

"Oh,  you  mustn't!  you  donno  what  they'll  do  to  ye!"  said  the 
woman. 

"  I  can  bar  it!  "  said  Tom,  "  better'n  you,"  and  he  was  at  his  place 
again.     It  passed  in  a  moment. 

Suddenly  the  stranger  woman,  who  had  in  the  course  of  her 
work  come  near  to  Tom,  said:  "You  know  nothing  about  this 
place,  or  you  wouldn't  have  done  that.  When  you've  been  here  a 
month,  you'll  be  done  helping  anybody;  you'll  find  it  hard  enough 
to  take  care  of  your  own  skin !  " 

"The  Lord  forbid,  Missis!"  said  Tom,  using  instinctively  to 
his  field  companion  the  respectful  form  proper  to  the  high-bred 
with  whom  he  had  lived. 

"The  Lord  never  visits  these  parts,"  said  the  woman,  bitterly, 
as  she  went  nimbly  forward  with  her  work ;  and  again  the  scorn- 
ful smile  curled  her  lips.  But  the  action  of  the  woman  had  been 
seen  by  the  driver  across  the  field ;  and,  flourishing  his  whip,  he 
came  up  to  her. 

"  What!  what!  "  he  said  to  the  woman,  with  an  air  of  triumph, 
"you  a-foolin'?  Go  along!  yer  under  me  now — mind  yourself,  or 
yer'll  cotch  it!  " 

A  glance  like  sheet-lightning  suddenly  flashed  from  those  black 
eyes;  and,  facing  about,  with  quivering  lip  and  dilated  nostrils, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  211 

she  drew  herself  up,  and  fixed  a  glance,  blazing  with  scorn  and 
rage,  on  the  driver. 

"Dog!"  she  said,  "touch  me,  if  you  dare!  I've  power  enough 
yet  to  have  you  torn  by  the  dogs,  burnt  alive,  cut  to  inches!  I've 
only  to  say  the  word !  " 

"What  de  devil  you  here  for,  den?"  said  the  man,  evidently 
cowed,  and  sullenly  retreating  a  step  or  two.  "  Didn't  mean  no 
harm,  Missie  Cassy." 

"Keep  your  distance,  then!"  said  the  woman.  And,  in  truth, 
the  man  seemed  greatly  inclined  to  attend  to  something  at  the 
other  end  of  the  field,  and  started  off  in  quick  time. 


A  SPOOL  OF  THREAD. 


SOPHIE    E.    EASTMAH. 


[The  last  battle  of  the  war  was  at  Brazos,  Tex. ,  May  13th,  1865,  resulting 
in  the  surrender  of  the  Texan  army.] 


WELL,  yes,  I've  lived  in  Texas,  since  the  spring  of  '61; 
And  I'll  relate  the  story,  though  I  fear,  sir,  when  'tis  done, 
'Twill  be  little  worth  your  hearing,  it  was  such  a  simple  thing, 
Unheralded  in  rondeaus  that  the  grander  poets  sing. 

There  had  come  a  guest  unbidden,  at  the  opening  of  the  year, 
To  find  a  lodgment  in  our  hearts,  and  the  tenant's  name  was  fear; 
For  secession's  drawing  mandate  was  a  call  for  men  and  arms, 
And  each  recurring  eventide  but  brought  us  fresh  alarms. 

They  had  notified  the  General  that  he  must  yield  to  fate, 
And  all  the  muniments  of  war  surrender  to  the  state, 
But  he  sent  from  San  Antonio  an  order  to  the  sea 
To  convey  on  board  the  steamer  all  the  fort's  artillery. 

Eight  royal  was  his  purpose,  but  the  foe  divined  his  plan, 
And  the  wily  Texans  set  a  guard  to  intercept  the  man 


212  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Detailed  to  bear  the  message ;  they  placed  their  watch  with  care 
That  neither  scout  nor  citizen  should  pass  it  unaware. 

Well,  this  was  rather  awkward,  sir,  as  doubtless  you  will  say, 
But  the  Major  who  was  chief  of  staff  resolved  to  have  his  way, 
Despite  the  watchful  provost  guard;  so  he  asked  his  wife  to  send, 
With  a  little  box  of  knick-knacks,  a  letter  to  her  friend; 
And  the  missive  held  one  sentence  I  remember  to  this  day: 
"  The  thread  is  for  your  neighbor,  Mr.  French,  across  the  way." 

He  dispatched  a  youthful  courier.     Of  course,  as  you  will  know, 
The  Texans  searched  him  thoroughly  and  ordered  him  to  show 
The  contents  of  the  letter.      They  read  it  o'er  and  o'er, 
But  failed  to  find  the  message  they  had  hindered  once  before. 

So  it  reached  the  English  lady,  and  she  wondered  at  the  word, 
But  gave  the  thread  to  Major  French,  explaining  that  she  heard 
He  wished  a  spool  of  cotton.     And  great  was  his  surprise 
At  such  a  trifle  sent,  unasked,  through  leagues  of  hostile  spies. 

"There's  some  hidden  purpose,  doubtless,  in  the  curious  gift,"  he 

said. 
Then  he  tore  away  the  label,  and  inside  the  spool  of  thread 
Was  Major  Nichols'  order,  bidding  him  convey  to  sea 
All  the  arms  and  ammunition  from  Fort  Duncan's  battery. 
"  Down  to  Brazos  speed  your  horses,"  thus  the  Major's  letter  ran, 
"  Shift  equipments  and  munitions,  and  embark  them  if  you  can." 

Yes,  the  transfer  was  effected,  for  the  ships  lay  close  at  hand. 
Ere  the  Texans  guessed  their  purpose  they  had  vanished  from  the 

land. 
Do  I  know  it  for  a  fact,  sir?     'Tis  no  story  that  I've  read — 
I  was  but  a  boy  in  war  time,  and  I  carried  him  the  thread. 

— A7".  Y.  Independent. 


AND  RECITATIONS.  213 

STONEWALL  JACKSON'S  DEATH. 


PAUL    M.     RUSSELL. 


[Gen.  Joseph  Hooker,  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  lying 
opposite  Fredericksburg,  Md.,  crossed  the  Rappahannock  River  early  in 
May,  1863,  and  fought  the  severe  battle  of  Chancellorsville,  in  which 
was  killed  the  famous  Southern  general,  Thomas  J.  Jackson,  commonly 
known  as  Stonewall  Jackson.  He  received  this  name  at  the  first  battle 
of  Bull  Run.  Defeat  seemed  imminent,  and  one  of  the  Confederate  gen- 
erals exclaimed :  "Here  stands  Jackson  like  a  stone  wall,  and  here  let  us 
conquer  or  die!"  Gen.  Jackson's  last  words  were :  "Let  us  cross  over 
the  river  and  lie  down  under  the  trees. "] 


THE  lightning  flashed  across  the  heaven,  the  distant  thunder 
rolled, 
And,  swayed  by  gusts  of  angry  winds,  the  far-off  church-bell  tolled, 
FThe  billows  crashed  against  the  rocks  that  kiss  the  ocean's  foam, 
-And  eager  pilots  trimmed  their  sails  and  turned  their  skiffs  for  home. 

As  darkness  fell  upon  the  earth,  and  we  were  gathered  round 
Our  blazing  hearth,  and  listening  to  the  storm's  teriific  sound, 
We  all  looked  up  to  Uncle  Tom,  who  sat  beside  the  fire, 
A-dreaming  of  the  bygone  days,  and  of  disaster  dire. 

For  memory  brought  us  back  again  to  times  of  darkest  woe, 
tWhen,  strong  in  hand  and  light  in  heart,  he  fought  the  Northern 

foe. 

He  often  spoke  of  '46 — the  fight  on  Mexic's  plain — 
How  Buena  Vista  heights  were  reached  while  bullets  fell  like  rain. 

How  Shields  had  gained  Chapultepec,  how  Santa  Anna  fled, 
And  how  the  Sisters  labored  even  where  the  bullets  sped ; 
And  oft  he  spoke  of  later  times,  but  always  with  a  sigh, 
tWhen  South  and  North  rose  up  to  fight  en  masse  for  cause  or  die. 

And  as  beside  the  fire  he  sat  and  piped  his  meerschaum  well, 
We  asked,  to  pass  the  time  away,  that  he  a  tale  should  tell. 
IHe  paused  a  moment,  then  he  laid  his  good  old  pipe  aside, 
And  said,  "  I'll  tell  you  boys,  to-night,  how  Stonewall  Jackson  died. 


214  WERNER'S   READINGS 

"  We  were  retreating  from  the  foe,  for  Fredericksburg  was  lost, 
And  on  our  flank,  still  threatening,  appeared  the  Union  host; 
Down  by  the  Eappahannock,  in  our  dismal  tents  we  lay, 
And  the  lightest  heart  was  heavy  with  our  grave  defeat  that  day. 

"  For  'tis  better  for  a  soldier  like  Montgomery  to  die, 
Than  live  to  see  bis  comrades  from  a  hated  foeman  fly; 
But  reverses  often  come  upon  defenders  of  the  right, 
And  justice  seldom  conquers,  boys,  when  nations  go  to  fight. 

"  With  heavy  hearts  we  laid  us  down,  but,  mind  you,  not  to  sleep, 
Nor  did  we  turn  aside  to  sing,  or  turn  aside  to  weep. 
But  as  we  pondered  o'er  our  griefs,  a  sudden  moan  was  heard, 
Far  louder  than  the  willow's  moan,  when  by  the  wind  'tis  stirred. 

"  It  woke  the  camp  from  reverie,  it  woke  the  camp  to  fear ; 
And  louder,  louder  grew  the  wail,  most  dreadful  then  to  hear. 
And  nearer  came  the  weeping  crowd,  and  something  stiff  and  still 
Was  borne,  we  knew  not  what  it  was,  but  followed  with  a  will. 

"At  last  within  our  Gen'ral's  tent  the  precious  load  was  laid, 

And  then  a  pallid  soldier  turned  unto  us  all,  and  said : 

'We  thought  it  hard,  my  comrades  brave,  to  lose  the  field  to-day; 

But  harder  will  our  struggle  be,  to  labor  in  the  fray; 

For  he  is  gone,  our  gallant  chief,  who  could  our  hopes  restore, 

And  rout  and  ruin  is  our  fate,  since  Stonewall  is  no  more. ' 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  how  we  felt,  or  how  we  acted  then, 
For  words  are  weak  to  tell  a  tale  when  grief  has  mastered  men; 
But  this  I  know,  I  pulled  the  cloth  from  off  brave  Jackson's  face, 
And  almost  jumped  with  joy  to  see  him  gaze  around  the  place. 

But,  boys,  it  was  a  fleeting  dream,  a  vacant  stare  he  cast; 
He  did  not  see  the  canvas  shaken  by  the  sudden  blast; 
He  did  not  see  us  weeping  as  we  staunched  the  flowing  blood, 
But  again  in  battle  fighting,  he  was  where  the  foemen  stood. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  215 

'Order  Gen'ral  Hill  to  action!  '  loud  he  cried,  as  he  was  wont; 
md  then  he  quickly  added:     'Bring  the  infantry  to  front! ' 
§3  he  saw  the  corps  pass  by  him — as  it  were — in  duty's  call, 
uddenly  he  shouted :  'Drive  them !  charge  upon  them,  one  and  all !' 

Then  he  turned  aside,  and,  smiling,  said  with  voice  of  one  in 

ease: 
Let  us  cross  the  foaming  river ;  let  us  rest  beneath  the  trees. ' 
'hen  we  waited,  boys,  and  watched  him,  but  no  other  word  he  said; 
'or  adown  the  foaming  river  had  our  leader's  spirit  sped." 


THE  BAY  FIGHT. 


HENRY    H.    BROWNELL. 


[One  of  the  most  notable  naval  exploits  of  the  Civil  War  was  performed 
Mobile  Bay,  August  5th,  1864.     Rear- Admiral  Farragut  ran  the  bat- 
nries  of  Forts  James  and  Morgan,  and  destroyed  the  rebel  fleet.     Farra- 
it  was  made  Vice-Admiral  by  Congress  in  December,  1864.] 


THEEE  days  through  sapphire  seas  we  sailed, 
The  steady  trade  blew  strong  and  free, 
The  Northern  Light  his  banners  paled, 
The  ocean  stream  our  channels  wet, 
We  rounded  low  Canaveral's  lee, 
And  passed  the  isles  of  emerald  set 
In  blue  Bahama's  turquoise  sea. 

But  weary  to  the  hearts  of  all 

The  burning  glare,  the  barren  reach 

Of  Pensacola's  ruined  wall, 

And  Santa  Eosa's  withered  beach. 

And  weary  was  the  long  patrol, 

The  thousand  miles  of  shapeless  strand, 

From  Brazos  to  San  Bias  that  roll 
Their  drifting  dunes  of  desert  sand. 


216  WERNEE'S   READINGS 

A  weary  time;  but  to  the  strong 

The  day  at  last,  as  ever,  came; 
And  the  volcano,  laid  so  long, 

Leaped  forth  in  thunder  and  in  flame ! 

"  Man  your  starboard  battery!"  Kimberly  shouted; 

The  ship,  with  her  hearts  of  oak, 

Was  going,  'mid  roar  and  smoke, 
On  to  victory!   none  of  us  doubted, 

No,  not  our  dying — 

Farragut's  flag  was  flying! 

Gaines  growled  low  on  our  left, 

Morgan  roared  on  our  right; 
Before  us,  gloomy  and  fell, 
With  breath  like  the  fume  of  hell, 
Lay  the  dragon  of  iron  shell 

Driven  at  last  to  the  fight ! 

Our  lofty  spars  were  down, 
To  bide  the  battle's  frown, 
(Wont  of  old  renown) — 

But  every  ship  was  drest 

In  her  bravest  and  her  best, 
As  if  for  a  July  day ; 

Sixty  flags  and  three. 
As  we  floated  up  the  bay, 

At  every  peak  and  masthead  flew 

The  brave  red,  white,  and  blue. 
We  were  eighteen  ships  that  day. 

Forging  boldly  ahead, 
The  great  flagship  led, 
Grandest  of  sights! 
On  her  lofty  mizzen  flew 


AND   RECITATIONS.  217 

Our  leader's  dauntless  blue, 

That  had  waved  o'er  twenty  fights; 
So  we  went,  with  the  first  of  the  tide, 

Slowly,  'mid  the  roar 

Of  the  rebel  guns  ashore 
And  the  thunder  of  each  full  broadside. 

On,  in  the  whirling  shade 

Of  the  cannon's  sulphury  breath, 

We  drew  to  the  line  of  death 
That  our  devilish  foe  had  laid; 
Meshed  in  a  horrible  net, 

And  baited  villainous  well, 
Right  in  our  path  were  set 

Three  hundred  traps  of  hell ! 

Then,  in  that  deadly  track, 
A  little  the  ships  held  back, 

Closing  up  in  their  stations. 
There  are  minutes  that  fix  the  fate 

Of  battles  and  of  nations, 

(Christening  the  generations) 
When  valor  were  all  too  late, 

If  a  moment's  doubt  be  harbored. 
From  the  main-top,  bold  and  brief, 
Came  the  word  of  our  grand  old  chief, — 
"  Go  on !"   'twas  all  he  said, 

Our  helm  was  put  to  starboard, 
And  the  Hartford  passed  ahead. 

Trust  me,  our  berth  was  hot. 
Ah,  wickedly  well  they  shot — 
How  their  death-bolts  howled  and  stung! 
And  the  water-batteries  played 
With  their  deadly  cannonade 


218  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Till  the  air  around  us  rung ; 
So  the  battle  raged  and  roared. 
Ah,  had  you  been  aboard 

To  have  seen  the  fight  we  made! 

How  they  leaped,  the  tongues  of  flame, 
From  the  cannon's  fiery  lip! 

How  the  broadsides,  deck  and  frame, 
Shook  the  great  ship ! 

And  how  the  enemy's  shell 
Came  crashing,  heavy  and  oft, 
Clouds  of  splinters  flying  aloft 

And  falling  in  oaken  showers; — 
But  ah,  the  pluck  of  the  crew ! 

Had  you  stood  on  that  deck  of  ours, 
You  had  seen  what  men  may  do. 

Still,  as  the  fray  grew  louder, 

Boldly  they  worked  and  well — 
Steadily  came  the  powder, 

Steadily  came  the  shell. 
And  if  tackle  or  truck  found  hurt, 

Quickly  they  cleared  the  wreck. 
And  the  dead  were  laid  to  port, 

All  in  a  row  on  our  deck. 

Never  a  nerve  that  failed, 

Never  a  cheek  that  paled, 
Not  a  tinge  of  gloom  or  pallor ; 

There  was  bold  Kentucky's  grit, 
And  the  old  Virginian  valor, 

And  the  daring  Yankee  wit. 

Grand  was  the  sight  to  see 
How  by  their  guns  they  stood, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  219 


Eight  in  front  of  our  dead, 
Fighting  square  abreast, 
Each  brawny  arm  and  chest 

All  spotted  with  black  and  red, 
Chrism  of  fire  and  blood ! 

Worth  our  watch,  dull  and  sterile, 

Worth  all  the  weary  time, 
Worth  the  woe  and  the  peril, 

To  stand  in  that  strait  sublime! 

Fear?  A  forgotten  form! 

Death?  A  dream  of  the  eyes! 
We  were  atoms  in  God's  great  storm 

That  roared  through  the  angry  skies. 

From  the  first  of  the  iron  shower 
Till  we  sent  our  parting  shell, 

'Twas  just  one  savage  hour 

Of  the  roar  and  the  rage  of  hell. 

With  the  lessening  smoke  and  thunder, 
Our  glasses  around  we  aim, — 

What  is  that  burning  yonder? 

Our  Philippi — aground  and  in  flame! 

Below,  'twas  still  all  a-roar, 
As  the  ships  went  by  the  shore, 

But  the  fire  of  the  fort  had  slacked, 
(So  fierce  their  volleys  had  been) — 
And  now,  with  a  mighty  din, 
The  whole  fleet  came  grandly  in, 

Though  sorely  battered  and  wracked. 

So,  up  the  Bay  we  ran, 

The  flag  to  port  and  ahead, 
And  a  pitying  rain  began 

To  wash  the  lips  of  our  dead. 


220  WERNER'S  READINGS 

A  league  from  the  fort  we  lay, 

And  deemed  that  the  end  must  lag. 

When  lo !  looking  down  the  Bay, 
There  flaunted  the  rebel  rag; — 

The  ram  is  again  under  way 
And  heading  dead  for  the  flag! 

Quickly  breasting  the  wave, 

Eager  the  prize  to  win, 
First  of  us  all  the  brave 

Monongahela  went  in 
Under  full  head  of  steam ; 
Twice  she  struck  him  abeam, 
Till  her  stem  was  a  sorry  work, 

She  might  have  run  on  a  crag! 
The  Lackawanna  hit  fair, 
He  flung  her  aside  like  cork, 

And  still  he  held  for  the  flag. 

High  in  the  mizzen  shroud, 

Lest  the  smoke  his  sight  o'erwhelm, 
Our  Admiral's  voice  rang  loud, 

"  Hard-a-starboard  your  helm ! 
Starboard !  and  run  him  down !  " 

Starboard  it  was;  and  so, 
Like  a  black  squall's  lifting  frown, 
Our  mighty  bow  bore  down 

On  the  iron  beak  of  the  foe. 

We  stood  on  the  deck  together, 
Men  that  had  looked  on  death 

In  babtle  and  stormy  weather, 
Yet  a  little  we  held  our  breath, 
When,  with  the  hush  of  death, 

The  great  ships  drew  together. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  221 

Our  Captain  strode  to  the  bow, 

Drayton,  courtly  and  wise, 

Kindly,  cynic,  and  wise, 
(You  hardly  had  known  him  now, 

The  flame  of  fight  in  his  eyes) — 
His  brave  heart  eager  to  feel 
How  the  oak  would  tell  on  the  steel! 

But,  as  the  space  grew  short, 

A  little  he  seemed  to  shun  us, 
Out  peered  a  form  grim  and  lanky, 

And  a  voice  yelled :  "  Hard-a-port ! 
Hard-a-port! — here's  the  damned  Yankee 

Coming  right  down  on  us!  " 

He  sheered,  but  the  ships  ran  foul 
With  a  jarring  shudder  and  growl. 

He  gave  us  a  deadly  gun ; 
But  as  he  passed  in  his  pride, 
Rasping  right  alongside, 

The  old  flag,  in  thunder-tones, 
Poured  in  her  port  broadside, 
Eattling  his  iron  hide, 

And  cracking  his  timber  bones! 

Ah,  then 
The  hurrahs  that,  once  and  again, 
Rang  from  three  thousand  men, 

All  flushed  and  savage  with  fight! 
Our  dead  lay  cold  and  stark, 
But  our  dying,  down  in  the  dark, 

Answered  as  best  they  might, 
Lifting  their  poor  lost  arms, 

And  cheering  for  God  and  right! 


222  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Ended  the  mighty  noise, 

Thunder  of  forts  and  ships; 

Down  we  went  to  the  hold — 
Oh,  our  dear  dying  boys ! 

How  we  pressed  their  poor  brave  lips, 

Ah!  so  pallid  and  cold, 
And  held  their  hands  to  the  last — 

Those  that  had  hands  to  hold. 

Our  ship  and  her  fame  to-day 
Shall  float  on  the  storied  stream 

When  mast  and  shroud  have  crumbled  away, 
And  her  long  white  deck  is  a  dream. 

One  daring  leap  in  the  dark, 
Three  mortal  hours,  at  the  most, 

And  hell  lies  stiff  and  stark 
On  a  hundred  leagues  of  coast. 

For  the  mighty  Gulf  is  ours, — 
The  bay  is  lost  and  won, 
An  empire  is  lost  and  won ! 
Land,  if  thou  yet  hast  flowers, 
Twine  them  in  one  more  wreath 

Of  tenderest  white  and  red, 
Twin  buds  of  glory  and  death, 

For  the  brows  of  our  brave  dead,— 
For  thy  navy's  noblest  son. 

0  motherland !  this  weary  life 
We  led,  we  lead,  is  'long  of  thee; 

Thine  the  strong  agony  of  strife, 
And  thine  the  lonely  sea. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  223 

Thine  the  long  decks  all  slaughter-sprent, 

The  weary  rows  of  cots  that  lie 
With  wrecks  of  strong  men,  marred  and  rent, 

'Neath  Pensacola's  sky. 

And  thine  the  iron  caves  and  dens 

Wherein  the  flame  our  war-fleet  drives; 
The  fiery  vaults,  whose  breath  is  men's 

Most  dear  and  precious  lives ! 

Ah,  ever,  when  with  storm  sublime 

Dread  nature  clears  our  murky  air, 
Thus  in  the  crash  of  falling  crime 

Some  lesser  guilt  must  share. 

Full  red  the  furnace  fires  must  glow 

That  melt  the  ore  of  mortal  kind: 
The  mills  of  God  are  grinding  slow, 

But  ah,  how  close  they  grind ! 

Be  strong.     Already  slants  the  gold 

Athwart  these  wild  and  stormy  skies; 
From  out  this  blackened  waste,  behold 

What  happy  homes  shall  rise ! 

And  never  fear  a  victor  foe, 

Thy  children's  hearts  are  strong  and  high; 
Nor  mourn  too  fondly ;  well  they  know 

On  deck  or  field  to  die. 

Nor  shalt  thou  want  one  willing  breath, 

Though,  ever  smiling  round  the  brave, 
The  blue  sea  bear  us  on  to  death, 

The  green  were  one  wide  grave. 


224  WERNER'S   READINGS 

LITTLE  GIFFEN. 


DE.    FRANCIS    ORRERY   TICKKOR. 


[A  ballad  of  such  unique  and  really  transcendent  merit  that  it  ought  to 
rank  with  the  rarest  gems  of  modern  martial  poetry.— Paul  H.  Hayne.] 


OUT  of  the  focal  and  foremost  fire, 
Out  of  the  hospital  walls  as  dire; 
Smitten  of  grape-shot  and  gangrene. 
(Eighteenth  battle,  and  he  sixteen !) 
Spectre !  such  as  you  seldom  see — 
Little  Giffen,  of  Tennessee! 

"  Take  him  and  welcome!  "  the  surgeons  said; 
Little  the  doctor  can  help  the  dead! 
So  we  took  him,  and  brought  him  where 
The  balm  was  sweet  in  the  summer  air ; 
And  we  laid  him  down  on  a  wholesome  bed — 
Utter  Lazarus  heel  to  head! 

And  we  watched  the  war  with  abated  breath — 
Skeleton  boy  against  skeleton  death. 
Months  of  torture,  how  many  such? 
Weary  weeks  of  the  stick  and  crutch; 
And  still  a  glint  of  the  steel-blue  eye 
Told  of  a  spirit  that  wouldn't  die, 

And  didn't.     Nay,  more!  in  death's  despite 
The  crippled  skeleton  learned  to  write ! 
"Dear  mother,"  at  first,  of  course;  and  then 
"Dear  captain,"  inquiring  about  the  men. 
Captain's  answer:  "0'  eighty-and-five, 
Giffen  and  I  are  left  alive." 

Word  of  gloom  from  the  war,  one  day ; 
Johnson  pressed  at  the  front,  they  say. 
Little  Giffen  was  up  and  away ; 


AND   RECITATIONS.  225 

A  tear — his  first — as  he  bade  good-bye, 

Dimmed  the  glint  of  his  steel-blue  eye. 

"  I'll  write  if  spared."     There  was  news  of  the  fight, 

But  none  of  Giffen — he  did  not  write. 

I  sometimes  fancy  that  were  I  king 

Of  the  princely  knights  of  the  golden  ring, 

With  the  song  of  the  minstrel  in  mine  ear, 

And  the  tender  legend  that  trembles  here, 

I'd  give  the  best,  on  his  bended  knee, 

The  whitest  soul  of  my  chivalry, 

For  little  Giffen,  of  Tennessee. 


THE  FREEMAN'S  DEFENCE. 


HAEKIET   BEECHEK   STOWE. 


'  '  \/ES,  Eliza,"  said  George,  "I  know  all  you  say  is  true. 
I  You  are  a  good  child — a  great  deal  better  than  I  am,  and 
I  will  try  to  do  as  you  say.  I'll  try  to  act  worthy  of  a  free  man. 
I'll  try  to  feel  like  a  Christian.  God  Almighty  knows  that  I've 
meant  to  do  well — tried  hard  to  do  well — when  everything  has 
been  against  me;  and  now  I'll  forget  all  the  past,  and  put  away 
every  hard  and  bitter  feeling,  and  read  my  Bible,  and  learn  to  be  a 
good  man." 

"  And  when  we  get  to  Canada,"  said  Eliza,  "  I  can  help  you.  I 
can  do  dress-making  very  well,  and  I  understand  fine  washing  and 
ironing;  and  between  us  we  can  find  something  to  live  on." 

"  Yes,  Eliza,  so  long  as  we  have  each  other  and  our  boy.  0 
Eliza,  if  these  people  only  knew  what  a  blessing  it  is  for  a  man  to 
feel  that  his  wife  and  child  belong  to  him.  I've  often  wondered 
to  see  men  that  could  call  their  wives  and  children  their  own, 
fretting  and  worrying  about  anything  else.  Why,  I  feel  rich  and 
strong,  though  we  have  nothing  but  our  bare  hands.  I  feel  as  if  I 
could  scarcely  ask  God  for  any  more.  Yes,  though  I  have  worked 
15 


226  WERNER'S    READINGS 

r 
hard  every  day  till  I  am  twenty-five  years  old,  and  have  not  a  cent 
of  money,  nor  a  roof  to  cover  me,  nor  a  spot  of  land  to  call  my 
own,  yet,  if  they  will  only  let  me  alone  now,  I  will  be  satisfied — 
thankful.  I  will  work,  and  send  back  the  money  for  you  and  my 
boy.  As  to  my  old  master,  he  has  been  paid  five  times  over  for 
all  he  spent  for  me.     I  don't  owe  him  anything." 

"  But  yet  we  are  not  quite  out  of  danger,"  said  Eliza;  "  we  are 
not  yet  in  Canada." 

"  True,  but  it  seems  as  if  I  smelt  the  free  air,  and  it  makes  me 
strong." 

At  this  moment,  voices  were  heard  in  the  outer  apartment,  in 
earnest  conversation,  and  very  soon  a  rap  was  heard  on  the  door. 
Eliza  started  and  opened  it. 

Simeon  Halliday  was  there,  and  with  him  a  Quaker  brother, 
whom  he  introduced  as  Phineas  Fletcher. 

"  Our  friend  Phineas,"  said  Simeon,  "  hath  discovered  something 
of  importance  to  the  interests  of  thee  and  thy  party,  George;  it 
were  well  for  thee  to  hear  it." 

"  That  I  have,"  said  Phineas,  "  and  it  shows  the  use  of  a  man's 
always  sleeping  with  one  ear  open,  in  certain  places,  as  I've  always 
said.  I  heard  them  say  something  about  Quakers.  '  So, '  says  one, 
'they  are  up  in  the  Quaker  settlement,'  says  he.  Then  I  listened 
with  both  ears,  and  I  found  that  they  were  talking  about  this  very 
party.  So  I  lay  and  heard  them  lay  off  their  plans.  This  young 
man,  they  said,  was  to  be  sent  back  to  Kentucky,  to  his  master, 
who  was  going  to  make  an  example  of  him  to  keep  niggers  from 
running  away ;  and  his  wife  two  of  them  were  going  to  run  down 
to  New  Orleans  to  sell,  on  their  own  account,  and  they  calculated 
to  get  sixteen  or  eighteen  hundred  dollars  for  her;  and  the  child, 
they  said,  was  going  to  a  trader,  who  had  bought  him ;  and  then 
there  was  the  boy  Jim  and  his  mother — they  were  to  go  back  to 
their  masters  in  Kentucky.  They  said  that  there  were  two  con- 
stables in  a  town  a  little  piece  ahead,  who  would  go  in  with  'em 
to  get  'em  taken  up,  and  the  young  woman  was  to  be  taken  before 
a  judge;  and  one  of  the  fellows,  who  is  small  and  smooth-spoken, 


AND  RECITATIONS.  227 

was  to  swear  to  her  as  his  property,  and  get  her  delivered  over  to 
him  to  take  South.  They've  got  a  right  notion  of  the  track  we  are 
going  to-night,  and  they'll  be  down  after  us,  six  or  eight  strong. 
So,  now,  what's  to  be  done?  " 

The  group  that  stood  in  various  attitudes,  after  this  communica- 
tion, was  worthy  of  a  painter.  Kachel  Halliday,  who  had  taken  her 
hands  out  of  a  batch  of  biscuit,  to  hear  the  news,  stood  with  them 
upraised  and  floury,  and  with  a  face  of  the  deepest  concern ;  Simeon 
looked  profoundly  thoughtful ;  Eliza  had  thrown  her  arms  around 
her  husband,  and  was  looking  up  to  him;  George  stood  with 
clinched  hands  and  glowing  eyes,  and  looking  as  any  other  man 
might  look  whose  wife  was  to  be  sold  at  auction  and  son  sent  to  a 
trader,  all  under  the  shelter  of  a  Christian  nation's  laws. 

"What  shall  we  do,  George?"  said  Eliza,  faintly. 

"I  know  what  I  shall  do,"  said  George,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
little  room,  and  began  examining  his  pistols. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Phineas,  nodding  his  head  to  Simeon;  "thou 
seest,  Simeon,  how  it  will  work." 

"  I  see,"  said  Simeon,  sighing;  "  I  pray  it  come  not  to  that." 

"  I  will  attack  no  man,"  said  George.  "  All  I  ask  of  this  country 
is  to  be  let  alone,  and  I  will  go  out  peaceably;  but" — he  paused, 
his  brow  darkened  and  his  face  worked, — "  I've  had  a  sister  sold  in 
that  New  Orleans  market.  I  know  what  they  are  sold  for;  and 
am  I  going  to  stand  by  and  see  them  take  my  wife  and  sell  her, 
when  God  has  given  me  a  pair  of  strong  arms  to  defend  her?  No, 
God  help  me!  I'll  fight  to  the  last  breath  before  they  shall  take 
my  wife  and  son.     Can  you  blame  me?  " 

"  Mortal  man  cannot  blame  thee,  George.  Flesh  and  blood  could 
not  do  otherwise,"  said  Simeon.  "  Woe  unto  the  world  because  of 
offences,  but  woe  unto  them  through  whom  the  offence  cometh." 

"Eliza,"  said  George,  "people  that  have  friends,  and  houses 
and  lands,  and  money,  and  all  those  things  can't  love  as  we  do, 
who  have  nothing  but  each  other.  Till  I  knew  you,  Eliza,  no 
creature  ever  had  loved  me,  but  my  poor  heart-broken  mother  and 
sister.     I  saw  poor  Emily  that  morning  the  trader  carried  her  off, 


228  WERNER'S   READINGS 

She  came  to  the  corner  where  I  was  lying  asleep,  and  said,  'Poor 
George,  your  last  friend  is  going.  What  will  become  of  you,  poor 
boy?  '  And  I  got  up  and  threw  my  arms  around  her  and  cried 
and  sobbed,  and  she  cried,  too ;  and  those  were  the  last  kind  words 
I  got  for  ten  long  years,  and  my  heart  all  withered  up,  and  felt 
as  dry  as  ashes,  till  I  met  you.  Your  loving  me — why,  it  was  al- 
most like  raising  one  from  the  dead!  I've  been  a  new  man  ever 
since.  And  now,  Eliza,  I'll  give  my  last  drop  of  blood,  but  they 
shall  not  take  you  from  me.  Whoever  gets  you  must  walk  over  my 
dead  body! " 

"  0  Lord,  have  mercy!  "  said  Eliza,  sobbing.  "  If  He  will  only 
let  us  get  out  of  this  country  together,  that  is  all  we  ask." 

"Is  God  on  their  side?"  said  George,  speaking  less  to  his  wife 
than  pouring  out  his  own  bitter  thoughts.  "  Does  He  see  all  they 
do?  Why  does  He  let  such  things  happen?  And  they  tell  us  that 
the  Bible  is  on  their  side.  Certainly  all  the  power  is.  They  are 
rich  and  healthy  and  happy ;  they  are  members  of  churches,  ex- 
pecting to  go  to  heaven ;  and  they  get  along  so  easy  in  the  world, 
and  have  it  all  their  own  way,  and  poor,  honest,  faithful  Chris- 
tians— 'Christians  as  good  or  better  than  they  are — lying  in  the  very 
dust  under  their  feet.  They  buy  'em  and  sell  'em,  and  make 
trade  of  their  hearts'  blood  and  groans  and  tears,  and  God  lets 
'em." 

Later  in  the  day  George  and  Eliza  were  taken  in  a  covered 
wagon  by  Phineas  Fletcher,  who  had  planned  to  aid  their  escape 
into  Canada,  but  the  pursuers  were  upon  them — "  right  on  behind, 
eight  or  ten  of  them,  hot  with  brandy,  swearing,  and  foaming  like 
so  many  wolves." 

The  party  in  pursuit  consisted  of  Tom  Loker  and  Marks,  the 
two  constables,  and  a  posse  made  up  of  such  rowdies  at  the  last 
tavern  as  could  be  engaged  by  a  little  brandy  to  go  and  help  the 
fun  of  trapping  a  lot  of  negroes. 

At  this  moment  George  appeared  on  the  top  of  a  rock  above 
them,  and  speaking  in  a  calm,  clear  voice  said:  "Gentlemen,  who 
are  you,  down  there,  and  what  do  you  want?  " 


AND   RECITATIONS.  229 

"  We  want  a  party  of  runaway  niggers,"  was  the  answer.  "  One 
George  Harris  and  Eliza  Harris  and  their  son,  and  Jim  Selden, 
and  an  old  woman.  We've  got  the  officers  here  and  a  warrant  to 
take  'em;  and  we're  going  to  have  'em,  too.  D'ye  hear?  Ain't 
you  George  Harris  that  belongs  to  Mr.  Harris,  of  Shelby  County, 
Kentucky?  " 

"  I  am  George  Harris.  A  Mr.  Harris,  of  Kentucky,  did  call  me 
his  property.  But  now  I'm  a  free  man,  standing  on  God's  free 
soil.  My  wife  and  my  child  I  claim  as  mine.  Jim  and  his 
mother  are  here.  We  have  arms  to  defend  ourselves  and  we  mean 
to  do  it.  You  can  come  up  if  you  like,  but  the  first  one  of  you 
that  comes  within  the  range  of  our  bullets  is  a  dead  man,  and  the 
next,  and  the  next,  and  so  on  till  the  last." 

"Oh,  come,  come,  young  man,  this  ain't  no  kind  of  talk  at  all 
for  you.  You  see,  we're  officers  of  justice.  We've  got  the  law 
on  our  side,  and  the  power,  and  so  forth;  so  you'd  better  give  up 
peaceably,  you  see,  for  you'll  certainly  have  to  give  up  at  last." 

"I  know  very  well  that  you've  got  the  law  on  your  side  and 
power,"  said  George,  bitterly.  "  You  mean  to  take  my  wife  to  sell 
in  New  Orleans,  and  put  my  boy,  like  a  calf,  in  a  trader's  pen, 
and  send  Jim's  old  mother  to  the  brute  that  whipped  and  abused 
her.  You  want  to  send  Jim  and  me  back  to  be  whipped  and  tor- 
tured and  ground  down  under  the  heels  of  them  that  you  call 
masters;  and  your  laws  will  bear  you  out  in  it,  more  shame  for 
you  and  them!  But  you  haven't  got  us.  We  stand  here  as  free, 
under  God's  sky,  as  you  are ;  and  by  the  great  God  who  made  us 
will  fight  for  our  liberty  till  we  diel  " 

George  stood  on  the  top  of  the  rock  as  he  made  his  declaration 
of  independence.  The  glow  of  dawn  gave  a  flush  to  his  swarthy 
cheek,  and  J  itter  indignation  and  despair  gave  fire  to  his  dark  eye, 
and  as  if  appealing  from  man  to  the  justice  of  God,  he  raised  his 
hand  to  heaven  as  he  spoke. 

The  attitude,  eye,  voice  and  manner  of  the  speaker  for  a  mo- 
ment struck  the  party  to  silence.  There  is  something  in  boldness 
and  determination  that  for  a  time  hushes  even  the  rudest  nature. 


230  WERNER'S   READINGS 

One  man,  however,  the  constable,  Loker,  remained  wholly  un- 
touched. He  was  deliberately  cocking  his  pistol,  and  in  the 
momentary  silence  that  followed  George's  speech  he  fired  at  him. 

"  Ye  see  ye  git  jist  as  much  for  him  dead  as  'live  in  Kentucky," 
he  said,  coolly.  "  I'm  going  right  up,  for  one.  I  never  was  afraid 
of  niggers,  and  I  ain't  going  to  be  now.  Who  goes  after?  "  he 
said,  springing  up  the  rocks. 

George  fired.  The  shot  entered  Loker's  side;  but  though 
wounded  he  would  not  retreat.  With  a  yell  like  that  of  a  wild 
bull  he  was  leaping  right  across  the  chasm  into  the  party. 

"Friend,"  said  Phineas,  suddenly  stepping  to  the  front  and 
meeting  him  with  a  push  from  his  long  arms,  "  thee  isn't  wanted 
here."     Down  he  fell  into  the  chasm  thirty  feet  below. 

"  Lord  help  us,  they  are  perfect  devils!"  said  Marks,  heading 
the  retreat  down  the  rocks,  while  all  the  party  came  tumbling 
precipitately  after  him. 


A  BATTLE  POEM. 


BENJAMIN    F.    TAYLOR. 


[Copyrighted  by  S.  C.  Griggs  &  Co.] 

BREAK  up  camp,  drowsy  World ! 
For  the  shrouds  are  unfurled, 
And  the  dead  drummers  beat  the  long-roll  through  the  morn, 
And  the  bugle-blown  orders 
Invade  the  dumb  borders 
Where  the  grave-digger  dreamed  he  had  laid  them  forlorn. 

From  old  Saratoga, 

From  old  Ticonderoga, 
From  Bennington,  Bunker,  and  Lexington  Green, 

They  have  marched  back  sublime 

To  the  sentries  of  time, 
And  have  passed  on  triumphant,  unchallenged  between ! 


AND   RECITATIONS.  231 

I  can  hear  the  flint-locks, 

The  old  click  of  the  clocks 
That  timed  liberty's  step,  to  no  pendulum  swing! 

When  the  bullets  all  sped, 

Woman  smilingly  said, 
" Let  us  charm  the  dull  weights  till  they  fly  and  they  sing!" 

Ah !  those  old  blackened  ladles 

Where  glory's  own  cradles 
Rocked  a  red-coat  to  sleep  with  each  birth  from  the  mould, 

And  the  old-fashioned  fire 

Blazed  hotter  and  higher, 
Till  it  welded  the  New  World  and  walled  out  the  Old. 

By  battalions  they  come, 

To  the  snarl  of  the  drum ! 
Bleeding  feet  that  turned  beautiful,  printing  the  snow. 

For  roses  seem  blowing 

Where'er  they  are  going, 
As  if  June,  with  her  blushes,  were  buried  below. 

Hail,  mighty  campaigners! 

The  Lord's  old  retainers, 
Eighty  winters  on  furlough,  the  tidings  ye  bring, 

Of  the  old  royal  Georges 

And  the  old  Valley  Forges, 
Our  cannon  are  telling :  the  people  are  king ! 

Clear  and  strong,  far  and  near, 

Eings  a  Green  Mountain  cheer, 
And  they  lower  their  dim  colors,  all  shivered  and  shred, 

And  their  swords  red  with  rust, 

And  their  guns  gray  with  dust, 
And  then  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  living  and  dead ! 

The  broad  age  is  a  line — 
Past  and  present  entwine — 


232  WERNER'S   READINGS 

We  will  finish  the  work  that  the  Fathers  begun ; 

Then  those  to  their  sleeping, 

And  these  to  their  weeping, 
And  one  faith  and  flag  for  the  Federal  gun! 

Speak,  helmsman,  the  words 

Half  battles,  half  swords — 
Let  the  "  President's  March"  be  resounding  abroad ; 

With  the  pen  and  the  page 

Keeping  time  with  the  age, 
Till  thy  swords  without  scabbards  flash  grandly  for  God! 

Then  the  rattling  roll  of  the  musketeers, 
And  the  ruffled  drums,  and  the  rallying  cheers, 

And  the  rifles  burn  with  a  keen  desire, 

Like  the  crackling  whips  of  the  hemlock  fire; 

And  the  singing  shout,  and  the  shrieking  shell, 
And  the  splintery  fire  of  the  shattered  hell, 

And  the  great  white  breaths  of  the  cannon  smoke, 

As  the  growling  guns  by  batteries  spoke 

In  syllables  dropped  from  the  thunder  of  God — 
The  throb  of  the  cloud  where  the  drummer  boy  trod! 

And  the  ragged  gaps  in  the  walls  of  blue 

Where  the  iron  surge  rolled  heavily  through, 

That  the  colonel  builds  with  a  breath  again, 

As  he  cleaves  the  din  with  his  "  Close  up,  men!  " 

And  the  groan  torn  out  from  the  blackened  lips, 

And  the  prayer  doled  slow  with  the  crimson  drips, 
And  the  beamy  look  in  the  dying  eye, 
As  under  the  cloud  the  Stars  go  by! 

But  his  soul  marched  on,  the  captain  said, 

For  the  boy  in  blue  can  never  be  dead! 

And  the  troopers  sit  in  their  saddles  all, 
As  the  statues  carved  in  an  ancient  hall, 


AND   RECITATIONS.  233 

And  they  watch  the  whirl  from  their  breathless  ranks, 
And  their  spurs  are  close  to  the  horses'  flanks, 

And  the  fingers  work  of  the  sabre  hand — 

Oh !  to  bid  them  live,  and  to  make  them  grand ! 
And  the  bugle  sounds  to  the  charge  at  last, 
And  away  they  plunge,  and  the  front  is  past, 

And  the  jackets  blue  grow  red  as  they  ride, 

And  the  scabbards,  too,  that  clank  by  their  side, 
And  the  dead  soldiers  deaden  the  strokes  iron  shod, 
As  they  gallop  right  on  o'er  the  plashy  red  sod; 

Eight  into  the  clouds  all  spectral  and  dim, 

Eight  up  to  the  guns,  black-throated  and  grim, 
Eight  down  on  the  hedges  bordered  with  steel, 
Eight  through  the  dense  columns,  then  "Eight  about,  wheel!  " 

Hurrah !  a  new  swath  through  the  harvest  again ! 

Hurrah  for  the  flag!     To  the  battle,  amen! 
0  glimpse  of  clear  heaven! 
Artillery  riven 
The  Fathers'  old  fallow  God  seeded  with  stars; 

Thy  furrows  were  turning, 

When  ploughshares  were  burning, 
And  half  of  each  " bout "  is  redder  than  Mars! 

Flaunt  forever  thy  story, 

0  wardrobe  of  glory 
Where  the  Fathers  laid  down  their  mantles  of  blue ; 

And  challenged  the  ages, 

0  grandest  of  pages 
In  covenant  solemn,  eternal,  and  true. 

0  flag!  glory-rifted, 

To-day  thunder-drifted, 
Like  a  tower  of  strange  grace,  on  the  crest  of  a  surge; 

On  some  Federal  fold 

A  new  tale  shall  be  told, 
And  the  record  immortal  emblazon  thy  verge, 


234  WERNER'S   READINGS 

VICKSBURG. 

PAUL   HAMILTON   HATNE. 

FOE  sixty  days  and  upward  a  storm  of  shell  and  shot 
Eained  round  us  in  a  flaming  shower,  but  still  we  faltered  not. 
"  If  the  noble  city  perish,"  our  grand  young  leader  said, 
"  Let  the  only  walls  the  foes  shall  scale  be  ramparts  of  the  dead! " 

For  sixty  days  and  upward  the  eye  of  heaven  waxed  dim; 

And  e'en  throughout  God's  holy  morn,  o'er  Christian  prayer  and 

hymn, 
Arose  a  hissing  tumult,  as  if  the  fiends  in  air 
Strove  to  engulf  the  voice  of  faith  in  the  shrieks  of  their  despair. 

There  was  wailing  in  the  houses,  there  was  trembling  on  the  marts, 
While  the  tempest  raged  and  thundered,  'mid  the  silent  thrill  of 

hearts; 
But  the  Lord,  our  shield,  was  with  us,  and  ere  a  month  had  sped, 
Our  very  women  walked  the  streets  with  scarce  one  throb  of  dread ; 

And  the  little  children  gambolled,  their  faces  purely  raised, 
Just  for  a  wondering  moment,  as  the  huge  bombs  whirled  and  blazed ; 
Then  turned  with  silvery  laughter  to  the  sports  which  children  love 
Thrice-mailed  in  the  sweet  instinctive  thought  that  the  good  God 
watched  above. 

Yet  the  hailing  bolts  fell  faster  from  scores  of  flame-clad  ships, 
And  above  us,  denser,  darker,  grew  the  conflict's  wild  eclipse; 
Till  a  solid  cloud  closed  o'er  us,  like  a  type  of  doom  and  ire, 
Whence  shot  a  thousand  quivering  tongues  of  forked  and  vengeful 
fire. 

But  the  unseen  hand  of  angels  those  death-shafts  warned  aside, 
And  the  dove  of  heavenly  mercy  ruled  o'er  the  battle-tide; 
In  the  houses  ceased  the  wailing  and  through  the  war-scarred  marts 
The  people  strode,  with  the  step  of  hope, to  the  music  in  their  hearts. 


AND    RECITATIONS.  235 

THE  NINETEENTH   OF  APRIL,    1861. 

LUCY   LAKCOM. 


[I  think  your  purpose  is  a  good  one— to  keep  our  national  history  a 
reality  for  the  younger  peoople  ;  and  I  will  explain  that  these  verses  were 
written  on  the  very  day  that  the  news  came  by  telegraph  of  our  soldiers 
being  fired  upon  as  they  passed  through  Baltimore.  I  had  seen  that  very 
regiment  leave  Boston  the  day  before.  It  was  an  intense  experience. 
The  "  To-day  for  us  have  bled"  was  literally  true,  and  if  you  wish  to  make 
use  of  the  fact,  you  can  do  so.— Lucy  Larcom.] 


THIS  year,  till  late  in  April,  the  snow  fell  thick  and  light; 
The  flag  of  peace,  dear  nature,  in  clinging  drifts  of  white 
Hung  over  field  and  city ;  now  everywhere  is  seen, 
In  place  of  that  white  quietness,  a  sudden  glow  of  green. 

The  verdure  climbs  the  Common,  beneath  the  ancient  trees, 
To  where    the  glorious   Stars    and  Stripes  are  floating  on  the 

breeze, 
There,  suddenly  spring  awoke  from  winter's  snow-draped  gloom, 
The  passion  flower  of  Seventy-six  is  bursting  into  bloom. 

Dear  is  the  time  of  roses,  when  earth  to  joy  is  wed, 
And  garden-plot  and  meadow  wear  one  generous  flush  of  red ; 
But  now  in  dearer  beauty,  to  freedom's  colors  true, 
Blooms  the  old  town  of  Boston  in  red  and  white  and  blue. 

Along  the  whole  awakening  North  are  those  true  colors  spread; 
A  summer  noon  of  patriotism  is  burning  overhead, 
No  party  badges  flaunting  now,  no  word  of  clique  or  clan ; 
But  "  Up  for  God  and  Union!  "  is  the  shout  of  every  man. 

Oh,  peace  is  dear  to  Northern  hearts,  our  hard-earned  homes 

more  dear; 
But  freedom  is  beyond  the  price  of  any  earthly  cheer; 
And  freedom's  flag  is  sacred;  he  who  would  work  it  harm, 
Let  him,  although  a  brother,  beware  our  strong  right  arm ! 


236  WERNERS   READINGS 

A  brother!  ah,  the  sorrow,  the  anguish  of  that  word! 
The  fratricidal  strife  begun,  when  shall  its  end  be  heard? 
Not  this  the  boon  that  patriot  hearts  have  prayed  and  waited  for ; 
We  loved  them,  and  we   longed    for    peace;    but    they  would 
have  it  war. 

Yes,  war!     On  this  memorial  day,  the  day  of  Lexington, 
A  lightning  thrill  along  the  wires  from  heart  to  heart  has  run; 
Brave  men  we  gazed  on  yesterday,  to-day  for  us  have  bled ; 
Again  is  Massachusetts  blood  the  first  for  freedom  shed. 

To  war,  and  with  our  brethren,  then,  if  only  this  can  be ! 
Life  hangs  as  nothing  in  the  scale  against  dear  liberty ! 
Though  hearts  be  torn  asunder,  we  for  motherland  will  fight; 
Our  blood  may  seal  the  victory,  but  God  will  shield  the  right ! 


AND   RECITATIONS.  237 


Period  VII.— THE   DAWNING   OF  THE 
TWENTIETH   CENTURY. 


AMERICA. 


WILLIAM    CULLEN    BRYANT. 


LOOK  now  abroad, — another  race  has  filled 
These  populous  borders, — wide  the  wood  recedes, 
And  towns  shoot  up,  and  fertile  realms  are  tilled ; 
The  land  is  full  of  harvests  and  green  meads; 
Streams  numberless,  that  many  a  fountain  feeds, 
Shine,  disembowered,  and  give  to  sun  and  breeze 
Their  virgin  waters;  the  full  region  leads 
New  colonies  forth  that  toward  the  western  seas 
Spread,  like  a  rapid  flame  among  the  autumnal  trees. 

Here  the  free  spirit  of  mankind  at  length, 
Throws  its  last  fetters  off;  and  who  shall  place 
A  limit  to  the  giant's  unchained  strength, 
Or  curb  his  swiftness  in  the  forward  race; 
Far,  like  the  comet's  way  through  infinite  space, 
Stretches  the  long  untravelled  path  of  light 
Into  the  depths  of  ages;  we  may  trace, 
Distant,  the  brightening  glory  of  its  flight, 
Till  the  receding  rays'  are  lost  to  human  sight. 

Europe  is  given  a  prey  to  sterner  fates, 

And  writhes  in  shackles;  strong  the  arms  that  chain 

To  earth  her  struggling  multitude  of  states; 

She  too  is  strong  and  might  not  chafe  in  vain 


238  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Against  them,  but  shake  off  the  vampire  train 
That  fatten  on  her  blood,  and  break  their  net. 
Yes,  she  shall  look  on  brighter  days,  and  gain 
The  meed  of  worthier  deeds;  the  moment  set 
To  rescue  and  raise  up,  draws  near — but  is  not  yet. 

But  thou,  my  country,  thou  shalt  never  fall, 
But  with  thy  children,  thy  maternal  care, 
Thy  lavish  love,  thy  blessings  showered  on  all — 
These  are  thy  fetters;  seas  and  stormy  air 
Are  the  wide  barrier  of  thy  borders,  where, 
Among  thy  gallant  sons  that  guard  thee  well, 
Thou  laugh'st  at  enemies.     "Who  shall  then  declare 
The  date  of  thy  deep-founded  strength,  or  tell 
How  happy,  in  thy  lap,  the  sons  of  men  shall  dwell? 


FOURTH   OF  JULY. 

GEORGE   W.    BETHUNE. 


MAINE,  from  her  farthest  border,  gives  the  first  exulting  shout, 
And  from  New  Hampshire's  granite  heights  the  echoing  peal 
rings  out; 
The  mountain  farms  of  staunch  Vermont  prolong  the  thundering 

call, 
And  Massachusetts  answers  "  Banker  Hill" — a  watchword  for  us  all. 

Khode  Island  shakes  her  sea-wet  locks,  acclaiming  with  the  free, 
And  staid  Connecticut  breaks  forth  in  joyous  harmony; 
The  giant  joy  of  proud  New  York,  loud  as  an  earthquake's  roar, 
Is  heard  from  Hudson's  crowded  banks  to  Erie's  crowded  shore. 

Still  on  the  booming  volley  rolls,  o'er  plains  and  flowery  glades, 
To  where  the  Mississippi's  flood  the  turbid  gulf  invades; 
There,  borne  from  many  a  mighty  stream  upon  her  mightier  tide, 
Come  down  the  swelling,  long  huzzas  from  all  that  valley  wide. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  239 

And  wood-crowned  Alleghany's  call,  from  all  her  summits  high, 

Reverberates  among  the  rocks  that  pierce  the  sunset  sky; 

While  on  the  shores  and  through  the  swales  round  the  vast  inland 

seas, 
The  Stars  and  Stripes,  'midst  freemen's  songs,  are  flashing  to  the 

breeze. 

The  woodsman,  from  the  mother,  takes  his  boy  upon  his  knee, 
And  tells  him  how  their  fathers  fought  and  bled  for  liberty. 
The  lonely  hunter  sits  him  down  the  forest  spring  beside, 
To  think  upon  his  country's  worth,  and  feel  his  country's  pride; 

While  many  a  foreign  accent,  which  our  God  can  understand, 
Is  blessing  Him  for  home  and  bread  in  this  free,  fertile  land. 
Yes,  when  upon  the  Eastern  coast  we  sink  to  happy  rest, 
The  Day  of  Independence  rolls  still  onward  to  the  West, 

Till  dies  on  the  Pacific  shore  the  shout  of  jubilee 
That  woke  the  morning  with  its  voice  along  the  Atlantic  Sea. 
0  God,  look  down  upon  the  land  which  Thou  hast  loved  so  well, 
And  grant  that  in  unbroken  truth  her  children  still  may  dwell ; 

Nor,  while  the  grass  grows  on  the  hill  and  streams  flow  through 

the  vale, 
May  they  forget  their  fathers'  faith,  or  in  their  covenant  fail; 
Keep,  God,  the  fairest,  noblest  land  that  lies  beneath  the  sun — 
"  Our  country,  our  whole  country,  and  our  country  ever  one." 


THE  GRAY  FOREST  EAGLE. 


ALFRED    B.    STREET. 


WITH  storm-daring  pinion,  and  sun-gazing  eye, 
The  gray  forest  eagle  is  king  of  the  sky ! 
Oh,  little  he  loves  the  green  valley  of  flowers, 
Where  sunshine  and  song  cheer  the  bright  summer  hours, 


240  WERNER'S    READINGS 

But  the  dark,  gloomy  gorge,  where  down  plunges  the  foam 
Of  the  fierce,  rocky  torrent,  he  claims  as  his  home ; 
There  he  blends  his  keen  shriek  with  the  roar  of  the  flood, 
And  the  many-voiced  sounds  of  the  blast-smitten  wood. 

A  fitful  red  glaring,  a  low,  rumbling  jar, 
Proclaim  the  storm-demon,  yet  raging  afar; 
The  black  cloud  strides  upward,  the  lightning  more  red, 
And  the  roll  of  the  thunder,  more  deep  and  more  dread : 
The  gray  forest  eagle,  where,  where  has  he  sped? 
Does  he  shrink  to  his  eyry,  and  shiver  with  dread? 
Does  the  glare  blind  his  eyes?     Has  the  terrible  blast 
On  the  wing  of  the  sky-king  a  fear-fetter  cast? 

Oh  no!  the  brave  eagle!     He  thinks  not  of  fright; 
The  wrath  of  the  tempest  but  rouses  delight; 
To  the  flash  of  the  lightning  his  eye  casts  a  gleam, 
To  the  shriek  of  the  wild  blast  he  echoes  his  scream, 
And  with  front  like  a  warrior  that  speeds  to  the  fray, 
And  a  clapping  of  pinions,  he's  up  and  away! 
Away,  oh  away,  soars  the  fearless  and  free ! 
What  recks  he  the  sky's  strife?  its  monarch  is  he! 

The  lightning  darts  round  him — undaunted  his  sight; 
The  blast  sweeps  against  him — unwavered  his  flight; 
High  upward,  still  upward  he  wheels,  till  his  form 
Is  lost  in  the  dark  scowling  gloom  of  the  storm. 
The  tempest  glides  o'er  with  its  terrible  train, 
And  the  splendor  of  sunshine  is  glowing  again; 
And  full  on  the  form  of  the  tempest  in  flight, 
The  rainbow's  magnificence  gladdens  the  sight ! 

The  gray  forest  eagle !     Oh,  where  is  he  now, 

While  the  sky  wears  the  smile  of  its  God  on  its  brow? 


AND   RECITATIONS.  241 

There's  a  dark  floating  spot  by  yon  cloud's  pearly  wreath, 
With  the  speed  of  the  arrow  'tis  shooting  beneath ; 
"Down,  nearer  and  nearer,  it  draws  to  the  gaze — 
Now  over  the  rainbow — now  blent  with  its  blaze; 
"lis  the  eagle,  the  gray  forest  eagle !     Once  more 
He  sweeps  to  his  eyry;  his  journey  is  o'er! 

Time  whirls  round  his  circle,  his  years  roll  away, 

But  the  gray  forest  eagle  minds  little  his  sway; 

The  child  spurns  its  buds  for  youth's  thorn-hidden  bloom; 

Seeks  manhood's  bright  phantoms,  finds  age  and  a  tomb; 

But  the  eagle's  eye  dims  not,  his  wing  is  unbowed, 

Still  drinks  he  the  sunshine,  still  scales  he  the  cloud. 

An  emblem  of  freedom  stern,  haughty,  and  high, 
Is  the  gray  forest  eagle,  that  king  of  the  sky ! 
When  his  shadows  steal  black  o'er  the  empires  of  kings, 
Deep  terror,  deep  heart-shaking  terror,  he  brings; 
Where  wicked  oppression  is  armed  for  the  weak, 
There  rustles  his  pinion,  there  echoes  his  shriek ; 
His  eye  flames  with  vengeance,  he  sweeps  on  his  way, 
And  his  talons  are  bathed  in  the  blood  of  his  prey. 

Oh,  that  eagle  of  freedom!     When  cloud  upon  cloud 
Swathed  the  sky  of  my  own  native  land  with  a  shroud, 
When  lightnings  gleamed  fiercely,  and  thunderbolts  rung, 
How  proud  to  the  tempest  those  pinions  were  flung ! 
Though  the  wild  blast  of  battle  rushed  fierce  through  the  air 
With  darkness  and  dread,  still  the  eagle  was  there; 
Unquailing,  still  speeding,  his  swift  flight  was  on, 
Till  the  rainbow  of  peace  crowned  the  victory  won. 

Oh,  that  eagle  of  freedom !     Age  dims  not  his  eye, 
He  has  seen  earth's  mortality  spring,  bloom,  and  die! 
16 


242  WERNER'S   READINGS 

He  has  seen  the  strong  nations  rise,  flourish,  and  fall; 
He  mocks  at  time's  changes,  he  triumphs  o'er  all; 
He  has  seen  our  own  land  with  wild  forests  o'erspread, 
He  sees  it  with  sunshine  and  joy  on  its  head ; 
And  his  presence  will  hless  this  his  own  chosen  clime, 
Till  the  archangel's  fiat  is  set  upon  time. 

"7 


HISTORY  OF  OUR  FLAG. 


KEY.   ALBERT   B.    PUTNAM. 


THE  history  of  our  glorious  old  flag  is  of  exceeding  interest,  and 
brings  back  to  us  a  throng  of  sacred  and  thrilling  associa- 
tions. The  banner  of  St.  Andrew  was  blue,  charged  with  a  white 
altier  or  cross,  in  the  form  of  the  letter  X,  and  was  used  in  Scot- 
land as  early  as  the  eleventh  century.  The  banner  of  St.  George 
was  white,  charged  with  the  red  cross,  and  was  used  in  England  as 
early  as  the  first  part  of  the  fourteenth  century.  By  a  royal  proc- 
lamation, dated  April  12th,  1700,  these  two  crosses  were  joined 
together  upon  the  same  banner,  forming  the  ancient  national  flag 
of  England. 

It  was  not  until  Ireland,  in  1801,  was  made  a  part  of  Great 
Britain,  that  the  present  national  flag  of  England,  so  well  known 
as  the  Union  Jack,  was  completed.  But  it  was  the  ancient  flag 
of  England  that  constituted  the  basis  of  our  American  banner. 
Various  other  flags  had,  indeed,  been  raised  at  other  times  by  our 
colonial  ancestors.  But  they  were  not  particularly  associated 
with,  or,  at  least,  were  not  incorporated  into  and  made  a  part  of 
the  destined  "  Stars  and  Stripes." 

It  was  after  Washington  had  taken  command  of  the  first  army 
of  the  Revolution,  at  Cambridge,  that  (January  2d,  1776)  he  un- 
folded before  them  the  new  flag  of  thirteen  stripes  of  alternate  red 
and  white,  having  upon  one  of  its  corners  the  red  and  white  crosses 
of  St.  George  and  St.  Andrew,  on  a  field  of  blue.     And  this  was 


AND   RECITATIONS.  243 

the  standard  which  was  borne  into  the  city  of  Boston  when  it  was 
evacuated  by  the  British  troops,  and  was  entered  by  the  American 
army. 

Uniting,  as  it  did,  the  flags  of  England  and  America,  it  showed 
that  the  colonists  were  not  yet  prepared  to  sever  the  tie  that  bound 
them  to  the  mother-country.  By  that  union  of  flags  they  claimed 
to  be  a  vital  and  substantial  part  of  the  empire  of  Great  Britain, 
and  demanded  the  rights  and  privileges  which  such  a  relation  im- 
plied. Yet  it  was  by  these  thirteen  stripes  that  they  made  known 
the  union  also  of  the  thirteen  colonies,  the  stripes  of  white  declar- 
ing the  purity  and  innocence  of  their  cause,  and  the  stripes  of  red 
giving  forth  defiance  to  cruelty  and  oppression. 

On  the  14th  day  of  June,  1777,  it  was  resolved  by  Congress, 
"  That  the  flag  of  the  thirteen  United  States  be  thirteen  stripes, 
alternate  red  and  white,  and  the  Union  be  thirteen  white  stars  in 
the  blue  field."  This  resolution  was  made  public  September  3d, 
1777,  and  the  flag  that  was  first  made  and  used  in  pursuance  of  it 
was  that  which  led  the  Americans  to  victory  at  Saratoga.  Here 
the  thirteen  stars  were  arranged  in  a  circle,  as  we  sometimes  see 
them  now,  in  order  better  to  express  the  union  of  the  states. 

In  1794,  there  having  been  two  more  new  states  added  to  the 
Union,  it  was  voted  that  the  alternate  stripes,  as  well  as  the  cir- 
cling stars,  be  fifteen  in  number,  and  the  flag,  as  thus  altered  and 
enlarged,  was  the  one  which  was  borne  through  all  the  contests  of 
the  war  of  1812.  But  it  was  thought  that  the  flag  would  at  length 
become  too  large  if  a  new  stripe  should  be  added  with  every  freshly- 
admitted  state.  It  was  therefore  enacted,  in  1818,  that  a  perma- 
nent return  should  be  made  to  the  original  number  of  thirteen 
stripes,  and  that  the  number  of  stars  should  henceforth  correspond 
to  the  growing  number  of  states. 

Thus  the  flag  would  symbolize  the  Union  as  it  might  be  at  any 
given  period  of  its  history,  and  also  as  it  was  at  the  very  hour  of  its 
birth.  It  was  at  the  same  time  suggested  that  these  stars,  instead 
of  being  arranged  in  a  circle,  should  be  formed  into  a  single  star 
— a  suggestion  which  we  occasionally  see  adopted.     In  fine,  no 


244  WERNER'S   READINGS 

particular  order  seems  now  to  be  observed  with  respect  to  the  ar- 
rangement of  the  constellation.  It  is  enough  if  only  the  whole 
number  be  there  upon  that  azure  field — the  blue  to  be  emblematical 
of  perseverance,  vigilance,  and  justice,  each  star  to  signify  the  glory 
of  the  state  it  may  represent,  and  the  wlrole  to  be  eloquent  forever 
of  a  Union  that  must  be  " one  and  inseparable." 

What  precious  associations  cluster  around  our  flag!  Not  alone 
have  our  fathers  set  up  this  banner  in  the  name  of  God  over  the 
well-won  battle-fields  of  the  Revolution,  and  over  the  cities  and 
towns  which  they  rescued  from  despotic  rule ;  but  think  where  also 
their  descendants  have  carried  it,  and  raised  it  in  conquest  or  pro- 
tection !  Through  what  clouds  of  dust  and  smoke  has  it  passed — 
what  stoims  of  shot  and  shell — what  scenes  of  fire  and  blood!  Not 
only  at  Saratoga,  at  Monmouth,  and  at  Yorktown,  but  at  Lundy's 
Lane  and  New  Orleans,  at  Buena  Vista  and  Chapultepec.  It  is 
the  same  glorious  old  flag  which,  inscribed  with  the  dying  words 
of  Lawrence,  "  Don't  give  up  the  ship,"  was  hoisted  on  Lake  Erie 
by  Commodore  Perry  just  on  the  eve  of  his  great  naval  victory ; 
the  same  old  flag  which  our  great  chieftain  bore  in  triumph  to  the 
proud  city  of  the  Aztecs,  and  planted  upon  the  heights  of  her 
national  palace.  Brave  hands  raised  it  above  the  eternal  regions 
of  ice  in  the  Arctic  seas,  and  have  set  it  up  on  the  summits  of  the 
lofty  mountains  of  the  distant  West. 

Where  has  it  not  gone,  the  pride  of  its  friends  and  the  terror  of 
its  foes?  What  countries  and  what  seas  has  it  not  visited?  Where 
has  not  the  American  citizen  been  able  to  stand  beneath  its  guar- 
dian folds  and  defy  the  world?  With  what  joy  and  exultation 
seamen  and  tourists  have  gazed  upon  its  stars  and  stripes,  read  in 
it  the  history  of  their  nation's  glory,  received  from  it  the  full 
sense  of  security,  and  drawn  from  it  the  inspirations  of  patriotism! 
By  it,  how  many  have  sworn  fealty  to  their  country ! 

What  bursts  of  magnificent  eloquence  it  has  called  forth  from 
Webster  and  from  Everett!  What  lyric  strains  of  poetry  from 
Drake  and  Holmes !  How  many  heroes  its  folds  have  covered  in 
death !     How  many  have  lived  for  it,  and  how  many  have  died  for 


AND   RECITATIONS.  245 

it!  How  many,  living  and  dying,  have  said,  in  their  enthusiastic 
devotion  to  its  honor,  like  that  young  wounded  sufferer  in  the 
streets  of  Baltimore,  "  Oh,  the  flag!  the  Stars  and  Stripes!  "  And 
wherever  that  flag  has  gone,  it  has  been  the  herald  of  a  better  day ; 
it  has  been  the  pledge  of  freedom,  of  justice,  of  order,  of  civili- 
zation, and  of  Christianity.  Tyrants  only  have  hated  it,  and  the 
enemies  of  mankind  alone  have  trampled  it  to  the  earth.  All  who 
sigh  for  the  triumph  of  truth  and  righteousness  love  and  salute  it. 


THE  AMERICAN   FLAG. 

HENRY   WARD   BEECHER. 


A  THOUGHTFUL  mind,  when  it  sees  a  nation's  flag,  sees  not 
the  flag  only,  but  the  nation  itself;  and  whatever  may  be  its 
symbols,  its  insignia,  he  reads  chiefly  in  the  flag  the  government, 
the  principles,  the  truths,  the  history,  which  belong  to  the  nation 
which  sets  it  forth. 

When  the  French  tricolor  rolls  out  to  the  wind,  we  see  France. 
When  the  new-found  Italian  flag  is  unfurled,  we  see  resurrected 
Italy.  When  the  other  three-cornered  Hungarian  flag  shall  be 
lifted  to  the  wind,  we  shall  see  in  it  the  long-buried  but  never  dead 
principles  of  Hungarian  liberty.  When  the  united  crosses  of  St. 
Andrew  and  St.  George  on  a  fiery  ground  set  forth  the  banner  of 
Old  England,  we  see  not  the  cloth  merely ;  there  rises  up  before 
the  mind  the  noble  aspect  of  that  monarchy,  which,  more  than  any 
other  on  the  globe,  has  advanced  its  banner  for  liberty,  law,  and 
national  prosperity.  This  nation  has  a  banner,  too ;  and  wherever 
it  streamed  abroad,  men  saw  daybreak  bursting  on  their  eyes,  for 
the  American  flag  has  been  the  symbol  of  liberty,  and  men  rejoiced 
in  it.  Not  another  flag  on  the  globe  had  such  an  errand,  or  went 
forth  upon  the  sea  carrying  everywhere,  the  world  around,  such 
hope  for  the  captive,  and  such  glorious  tidings. 

The  stars  upon  it  were  to  the  pining  nations  like  the  morning 
stars  of  God,  and  the  stripes  upon  it  were  beams  of  morning  light. 


246  WERNER'S   READINGS 

As  at  early  dawn  the  stars  stand  first,  and  then  it  grows  light,  and 
then  as  the  sun  advances,  that  light  breaks  into  banks  and  stream- 
ing lines  of  color,  the  glowing  red  and  intense  white  striving 
together  and  ribbing  the  horizon  with  bars  effulgent,  so  on  the 
American  flag,  stars  and  beams  of  many-colored  light  shine  out 
together.  And  wherever  the  flag  comes,  and  men  behold  it,  they 
see  in  its  sacred  emblazonry  no  rampant  lion  and  fierce  eagle,  but 
only  light,  and  every  fold  significant  of  liberty. 

The  history  of  this  banner  is  all  on  one  side.  Under  it  rode 
Washington  and  his  armies;  before  it  Burgoyne  laid  down  his 
arms.  It  waved  on  the  highlands  at  West  Point;  it  floated  over 
old  Fort  Montgomery.  When  Arnold  would  have  surrendered  these 
valuable  fortresses  and  precious  legacies,  his  night  was  turned  into 
day,  and  his  treachery  was  driven  away  by  the  beams  of  light  from 
this  starry  banner.  It  cheered  our  army,  driven  from  New  York, 
in  their  solitary  pilgrimage  through  New  Jersey.  It  streamed  in 
light  over  Valley  Forge  and  Morristown.  It  crossed  the  waters 
rolling  with  ice  at  Trenton;  and  when  its  stars  gleamed  in  the 
cold  morning  with  victory,  a  new  day  of  hope  dawned  on  the  de- 
spondency of  the  nation.  And  when,  at  length,  the  long  years  of 
war  were  drawing  to  a  close,  underneath  the  folds  of  this  immortal 
banner  sat  Washington  while  Yorktown  surrendered  its  hosts  and 
our  Revolutionary  struggles  ended  with  victory. 

Let  us,  then,  twine  each  thread  of  the  glorious  tissue  of  our 
country's  flag  about  our  heartstrings;  and  looking  upon  our  homes 
and  catching  the  spirit  that  breathes  upon  us  from  the  battle-fields 
of  our  fathers  let  us  resolve,  come  weal  or  woe,  we  will,  in  life  and 
in  death,  now  and  forever,  stand  by  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  They 
have  been  unfurled  from  the  snows  of  Canada  to  the  plains  of  New 
Orleans,  in  the  halls  of  the  Montezumas  and  amid  the  solitude  of 
every  sea;  and  everywhere,  as  the  luminous  symbol  of  resistless  and 
beneficent  power,  they  have  led  the  brave  to  victory  and  to  glory. 
They  have  floated  over  our  cradles;  let  it  be  our  prayer  and  our 
struggle  that  they  shall  float  over  our  graves. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  247 

COLUMBIA  AND   LIBERTY. 


ROBERT   TREAT    PAINE. 


YE  sons  of  Columbia,  who  bravely  have  fought 
For  those  rights  which,   unstained,  from  your  sires  have 
descended, 
May  you  long  taste  the  blessings  your  valor  has  bought, 
And  your  sons  reap  the  soil  which  your  fathers  defended. 
'Mid  the  reign  of  mild  peace 
May  your  nation  increase. 
With  the  glory  of  Eome  and  the  wisdom  of  Greece ; 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  v/aves. 

In  a  clime  whose  rich  vales  feed  the  masts  of  the  world, 
Whose  shores  are  unshaken  by  Europe's  commotion, 
The  trident  of  commerce  shall  never  be  hurled 
To  increase  the  legitimate  powers  of  the  ocean. 
But  should  pirates  invade, 
Though  in  thunder  arrayed, 
Let  your  cannon  declare  the  free  charter  of  trade. 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

The  fame  of  our  arms,  of  our  laws  the  mild  sway, 

Had  justly  ennobled  our  nation  in  story, 
Till  the  dark  clouds  of  faction  obscured  our  young  day, 
And  enveloped  the  sun  of  American  glory. 
But  let  traitors  be  told, 
Who  their  country  have  sold, 
And  bartered  their  God  for  His  image  in  gold, 
That  ne'er  will  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 


248  WERNER'S   READINGS 

While  France  her  huge  limbs  bathes  recumbent  in  blood, 

And  society's  base  threats  with  wide  dissolution; 
May  peace,  like  the  dove  who  returned  from  the  flood, 
Find  an  ark  of  abode  in  our  mild  constitution. 
But,  though  peace  is  our  aim, 
Yet  the  boon  we  disclaim, 
If  bought  by  our  sovereignty,  justice,  or  fame; 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

"lis  the  fire  of  the  flint  each  American  warms; 

Let  Eome's  haughty  victors  beware  of  collision. 
Let  them  bring  all  the  vassals  of  Europe  in  arms — 
We're  a  world  by  ourselves,  and  disdain  a  division. 
While  with  patriot  pride 
To  our  laws  we're  allied, 
No  foe  can  subdue  us,  no  faction  divide; 

For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 

While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Our  mountains  are  crowned  with  imperial  oak, 

Whose  roots,  like  our  liberties,  ages  have  nourished; 
But  long  ere  our  nation  submits  to  the  yoke, 

Not  a  tree  shall  be  left  on  the  field  where  it  flourished. 
Should  invasion  impend, 
Every  grove  would  descend 
From  the  hill-tops  they  shaded,  our  shores  to  defend; 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Let  our  patriots  destroy  anarch's  pestilent  worm, 

Lest  our  liberty's  growth  be  checked  by  corrosion; 
Then  let  clouds  thicken  round  us — we  heed  not  the  storm, 
Our  realm  fears  no  shock  but  the  earth's  own  explosion. 
Foes  assail  us  in  vain, 
Though  their  fleets  bridge  the  main, 


AND  RECITATIONS.  249 

For  our  altars  and  laws  with  our  lives  we'll  maintain; 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land, 

Its  bolts  could  ne'er  rend  freedom's  temple  asunder; 
For,  unmoved,  at  its  portal  would  Washington  stand, 
And  repulse  with  his  breast  the  assaults  of  the  thunder! 
His  sword  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard  would  leap, 
And  conduct,  with  its  point,  every  flash  to  the  deep; 
For  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 

Let  fame  to  the  world  sound  America's  voice; 

No  intrigues  can  her  sons  from  their  government  sever. 
Her  pride  are  her  statesmen;  their  laws  are  her  choice, 
And  shall  flourish  till  liberty  slumbers  forever. 
Then  unite  heart  and  hand, 
Like  Leonidas'  band, 
And  swear  to  the  God  of  the  ocean  and  land, 
That  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves. 


MY  COUNTRY. 


GEORGE    E.    WOODBERRY. 


LOOK  forth,  0  Land,  thy  mountain-tops 
Glitter;  look,  the  shadow  drops; 
On  the  warder  summits  hoary 
Bursts  the  splendor- voiced  story! 
Bound  the  crags  of  watching,  rolled, 
The  purple  vales  of  heaven  unfold, 
And  far-shining  ridges  hang  in  air — 
Northward  beam,  and  to  the  South  thy  promise  bear. 


250  WERNER'S   READINGS 

Unto  isle  and  headland  sing  it, 
O'er  the  misty  midland  fling  it, 

From  a  hundred  glorious  peaks,  the  Appalachian  gold ! 
O'er  the  valley  of  the  thousand  rivers, 

O'er  the  sea-horizoned  lakes, 
Through  heaven's  wide  gulf  the  marvelous  fire  quivers, 

Myriad-winged,  and  every  dwindling  star  o'ertakes; 
On  where  earth's  last  ranges  listen, 

Thunder-peaks  that  cloud  the  West; 
With  the  flashing  signal  waken; 

All  the  tameless  Eockies  own  it — 
One  great  edge  of  sunrise  glisten ; 

All  the  skied  Sierras  throne  it ; 
And  lone  Shasta,  high  uplifted, 
O'er  the  snowy  centuries  drifted, 

Hears,  and  through  his  lands  is  splendor  shaken 
From  the  morning's  jewel  in  his  crest! 
0  chosen  Land 
God's  hand 

Doth  touch  thy  spires, 

And  lights  on  all  thy  hills  his  rousing  fires! 
0  beacon  of  the  nations,  lift  thy  head ; 

Firm  be  thy  bases  under 
Now  thy  earth  might  with  heaven  wed 

Beyond  hell's  hate  to  sunder! 
0  Land  of  promise,  whom  all  eyes 

Have  strained  through  time  to  see, 
Since  poets,  cradled  in  the  skies, 

Flashed  prophecy  on  thee ! 
J°y?  j°y !  Thy  destiny  hath  found  thee ; 
Now  the  oceans  brighten  round  thee ; 

To  thy  heaven-born  fate  ascending 
Thou,  earth's  darling!     Thou,  the  yearning 
Of  the  last  hope  in  her  burning ! 


AND   RECITATIONS.  251 

Titan,  crowner  of  the  ages, 
Now  the  eagle  seeks  thy  hand : 

Poets,  statesmen,  heroes,  sages, 
In  thy  lustrous  portals  stand! 

Well  may  mount  to  mount  declare  thee, 
Ocean  unto  ocean  sound  thee, 

To  the  skies  loud  hymns  upbear  thee, 
Earth  embrace,  and  heaven  bound  thee — 
God  hath  found  thee, 

Through  the  world  the  tidings  pour, 

And  fill  it  o'er  and  o'er, 

As  the  wave  of  morning  fills  the  long  Atlantic  shore. 

0  destined  Land,  unto  thy  citadel 

What  founding  fates  even  n*ow  doth  peace  compel, 

That  through  the  world  thy  name  is  sweet  to  tell! 

0  throned  Freedom,  unto  thee  is  brought 
Empire;  nor  falsehood,  nor  blood  payment  asked 

Who  never  through  deceit  thy  ends  hast  sought, 
Nor  toiling  millions  for  ambition  tasked. 

For  thou  art  founded  in  the  eternal  fact 

That  every  man  doth  greaten  with  the  act 
Of  freedom;  and  doth  strengthen  with  the  weight 
Of  duty ;  and  diviner  moulds  his  fate 

By  sharp  experience  taught  the  thing  he  lacked, 
God's  pupil;  thy  large  maxim  framed,  though  late, — 
Who  masters  best  himself,  best  serves  the  state. 

Large-limbed  they  were,  the  pioneers; 

Cast  in  the  iron  mold  that  fate  reveres. 
They  could  not  help  but  frame  the  fabric  well 
Who  squared  the  stones  for  heaven's  eye  to  tell; 

Who  knew  from  old,  and  taught  posterity 

That  the  true   workman's   only  he  who   builds  of   God's 
necessity. 


252  WERNER'S   READINGS 

0  Land  beloved ! 

My  country !  dear,  my  own ! 
May  the  young  heart  that  moved 

For  the  weak  words  atone. 

The  mighty  lyre  not  mine,  nor  the  full  breath  of  song, 

To  happier  sons  shall  these  belong. 
My  trembling  reed's  too  frail 
To  bear  thee  time's  all-hail! 

Faint  is  my  heart  and  ebbing  with  the  passion  of  thy  praise*, 
The  poets  come  who  cannot  fail. 

Happy  are  they  who  sing  thy  perfect  clays! 
All  the  hopes  of  mankind  blending 
Earth  awaking,  heaven  descending, 

While  the  new  day  steadfastly 

Domes  the  blue  deeps  over  thee! 
Happy  am  I  who  see  the  vision  splendid 

In  the  glowing  of  the  dawn  before  me, 
All  the  grace  of  heaven  blending 
Man  arising,  Christ  descending, 

While  God's  hand,  in  secrecy, 

Builds  thy  bright  eternity. 


NATIONAL  HYMN. 


F.    MARION    CRAWFORD. 


HAIL,  Freedom !     Thy  bright  crest 
And  gleaming  shield,  thrice  blest, 
Mirror  the  glories  of  a  world  thine  own: 
Hail,  heaven-born  Peace!     Our  sight, 
Led  by  thy  gentle  light, 

Shows  us  thy  paths  with  deathless  flowers  strewn. 
Peace,  daughter  of  a  strife  sublime, 
Abide  with  us  till  strife  be  lost  in  endless  time. 


AND   RECITATIONS.  253 

Her  one  hand  seals  with  gold 
The  portals  of  night's  fold, 

Her  other  the  broad  gates  of  dawn  unbars ; 
O'er  silent  wastes  of  snows, 
Crowning  her  lofty  brows, 

Gleams  high  her  diadem  of  Northern  stars, 
While  clothed  in  garlands  of  warm  flowers 
Round  Freedom's  feet  the  South  her  wealth  of  beauty  showers. 

Sweet  is  the  toil  of  peace, 
Sweet  the  year's  rich  increase 

To  loyal  men  who  live  by  Freedom's  laws; 
And  in  war's  fierce  alarms 
God  gives  stout  hearts  and  arms 

To  freemen  sworn  to  save  a  rightful  cause. 
Fear  none,  trust  God,  maintain  the  right, 
And  triumph  in  unbroken  union's  peerless  might. 

Welded  in  war's  fierce  flame 
Forged  on  the  hearth  of  fame, 

The  sacred  Constitution  was  ordained ; 
Tried  in  the  fire  of  time, 
Tempered  in  woes  sublime, 

An  age  has  passed  and  left  it  yet  unstained. 
God  grant  its  glories  still  may  shine, 
While  ages  fade  forgotten  in  time's  slow  decline! 

Honor  the  few  who  shared 
Freedom's  first  fight,  and  dared 

To  face  war's  desperate  tide  at  the  full  flood; 
Who  fell  on  hard-won  ground 
And  into  Freedom's  wound 

Poured  the  sweet  balsam  of  their  brave  hearts'  blood. 
They  fell,  but  o'er  their  glorious  grave 
Floats  free  the  banner  of  the  cause  they  died  to  save. 


254  WERNER'S   READINGS 

In  radiance  heavenly  fair 
Floats  on  the  peaceful  air 

That  flag  that  never  stooped  from  victory's  pride; 
Those  stars  that  softly  gleam, 
Those  stripes  that  o'er  us  stream, 

In  war's  grand  agony  were  sanctified; 
A  holy  standard,  pure  and  free, 
To  light  the  home  of  peace,  or  blaze  in  victory. 

Father,  whose  mighty  power 
Shields  us  through  life's  short  hour, 

To  thee  we  pray:  Bless  us  and  keep  us  free; 
All  that  is  past  forgive, 
Teach  us  henceforth  to  live, 

That  through  our  country  we  may  honor  Thee; 
And  when  this  mortal  life  shall  cease 
Take  Thou  at  last  our  souls  to  Thine  eternal  peace. 


THE  CENTENNIAL  OF    1876. 


"WILLIAM    MAXWELL   EVARTS. 


THE  spirit  of  the  nation  is  at  the  highest.  Its  triumph  over 
the  inborn,  inbred  perils  of  the  Constitution  has  chased 
away  all  fears,  justified  all  hopes,  and  with  universal  joy  we  greet 
this  day.  We  have  not  proved  unworthy  of  a  great  ancestry;  we 
had  the  virtue  to  uphold  what  they  so  wisely,  so  firmly  established. 
With  these  proud  possessions  of  the  past,  with  powers  matured, 
with  principles  settled,  with  habits  formed,  the  nation  passes,  as 
it  were,  from  preparatory  growth  to  responsible  development  of 
character  and  the  steady  performance  of  duty.  What  labors  await 
it,  what  trials  shall  attend  it,  what  triumphs  for  human  nature, 
what  glory  for  itself  are  prepared  for  this  people  in  the  coming 
century,  we  may  not  assume  to  foretell.  "  One  generation  passeth 
away  and  another  generation  cometh,  but  the  earth  abideth  for- 


AND   RECITATIONS.  255 

ever;"  and  we  reverently  hope  that  these  our  constituted  liberties 
shall  be  maintained  to  the  unending  line  of  our  posterity,  and  so 
long  as  the  earth  itself  shall  endure. 

In  the  great  procession  of  nations,  in  the  great  march  of  hu- 
manity, we  hold  our  place.  Peace  is  our  duty,  peace  is  our  policy. 
In  its  arts,  its  labors,  and  its  victories,  then,  we  find  scope  for  all 
our  energies,  rewards  for  all  our  ambitions,  renown  enough  for  all 
our  love  of  fame.  In  the  august  presence  of  so  many  nations 
which,  by  their  representatives,  have  done  us  the  honor  to  be  wit- 
nesses of  our  commemorative  joy  and  gratulation,  and  in  sight  of 
the  collective  evidences  of  the  greatness  of  their  own  civilization 
with  which  they  grace  our  celebration,  we  may  well  confess  how 
much  we  fall  short,  how  much  we  have  to  make  up  in  the  emulative 
competitions  of  the  times.  Yet  even  in  this  presence,  and  with 
a  just  deference  to  the  age,  the  power,  the  greatness  of  other  na- 
tions of  the  earth,  we  do  not  fear  to  appeal  to  the  opinion  of  man- 
kind whether,  as  we  point  to  our  land,  our  people,  and  our  laws, 
the  contemplation  should  not  inspire  us  with  a  lover's  enthusiasm 
for  our  country. 


THE  TWO   BANNERS  OF  AMERICA. 


HEERICK    JOHNSON. 

IT  makes  the  blood  tingle  and  the  cheeks  glow  to  read  how 
men  have  gone  into  battle  under  the  inspiration  of  the  "red, 
white  and  blue."  It  is  enough  to  make  the  nation  weep  for  joy, 
their  devotion  to  the  dear  old  flag;  "  Old  Glory,"  they  call  it. 

I  saw  a  young  sergeant  in  the  hospital  at  Fredericksburg.  He  was 
dying  there  with  the  "  Stars  and  Stripes"  about  him.  Arms,  haver- 
sack, canteen,  blanket,  all  were  lost;  but  he  had  clung  to  "Old 
Glory."  His  lips  moved;  we  stooped  to  listen.  He  was  making 
his  last  charge :  "  Come  on,  boys !  our  country  and  our  flag  for- 
ever;" and,  wrapped  in  stars,  he  went  up  among  the  stars. 

Lift  aloft,  then,  the  "star-spangled  banner."     Unfurl  it  to  the 


256  WERNER'S   READINGS 

breeze  that  every  zephyr  may  kiss  the  sacred  folds,  red  with  the 
blood  of  God's  heroes,  white  with  God's  justice,  and  blue  with 
heaven's  own  azure.  Bear  it  upward  and  onward,  0  braves  of  a 
free  people!  until  over  the  whole  vast  extent  of  liberty's  soil  shall 
again  be  seen  "  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  Kepublic,  once  more  full 
high  advanced." 

I  believe  that  God  has  made  this  whole  land  a  cradle  of  liberty ; 
and  is  rocking,  rocking  it  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro,  with  omnipotent 
arms;  and,  as  the  nations  hear  the  thunder  of  that  rocking,  we 
pray  God  that  it  may  never  cease  till  liberty  shall  need  rocking  no 
more  in  her  cradle,  but  shall  stand  up,  fair  and  young  and  strong — 
true  liberty,  liberty  for  the  body  and  liberty  for  the  soul,  and  shall 
walk  as  a  queen  through  the  land,  the  daughter  of  our  Christianity, 
the  nursling  of  God  and  America. 

Yet  above  the  banner  of  the  Constitution,  above  the  banners  of 
the  American  soldiers  and  sailors,  above  even  the  "  Stars  and 
Stripes,"  high  over  all,  let  us  raise  the  banner  of  the  cross,  that  we 
and  the  world  may  read  its  sacred  motto:  "  Immanuel — God  with 
us."  And  then,  with  the  mystic  cords  of  memory  stretching  from 
every  battle-field  and  patriot  grave,  to  every  living  heart  and  hearth- 
stone over  all  this  broad  land,  swelling  again  the  chorus  of  the 
Union,  we  shall  go  on,  giving  light  to  the  nations  and  liberty  to 
man  and  honor  to  God ! 


DANGERS  TO  OUR  REPUBLIC. 


HORACE   MANN. 


WHO  are  this  host  of  voters  crowding  to  use  the  freeman's 
right  at  the  ballot-box?  In  all  the  dread  catalogue  of  mor- 
tal sins  there  is  not  one  but,  in  that  host,  there  are  hearts  which 
have  willed  and  hands  which  have  perpetrated  it.  The  gallows 
has  spared  its  victims;  the  prison  has  released  its  tenants;  from 
dark  cells  where  malice  had  brooded,  where  revenge  and  robbery 
had  held  their  nightly  rehearsals,  the  leprous  multitude  is  dis- 


AND   RECITATIONS.  257 

gorged,  and  comes  up  to  the  ballot-box  to  foredoom  the  destinies 
of  this  nation. 

But  look  again  at  that  deep  and  dense  array  of  ignorance, 
whose  limits  the  eye  cannot  discover.  Its  van  leans  against  us 
here,  its  rear  is  behind  the  distant  hills.  They,  too,  in  this  hour 
of  their  country's  peril,  have  come  up  to  turn  the  folly  of  which 
they  are  not  conscious  into  measures  which  they  cannot  understand, 
by  votes  which  they  cannot  read.  Nay,  more  and  worse!  For 
from  the  ranks  of  crime,  emissaries  are  sallying  forth  toward  the 
ranks  of  ignorauce,  shouting  the  war-cries  of  faction,  and  flaunt- 
ing banners  with  lying  symbols,  such  as  cheat  the  eye  of  a  mind- 
less brain ;  and  thus  the  hosts  of  crime  are  to  lead  on  the  hosts 
of  ignorance  in  their  assault  upon  liberty  and  law! 

What,  now,  shall  be  done  to  save  the  citadel  of  freedom,  where 
are  treasured  all  the  hopes  of  posterity?  Or,  if  we  can  survive  the 
peril  of  such  a  day,  what  shall  be  done  to  prevent  the  next  genera- 
tion from  sending  forth  still  more  numerous  hordes,  afflicted  with 
deeper  blindness  and  incited  by  darker  depravity?  Are  there  any 
here  who  would  counsel  us  to  save  the  people  from  themselves  by 
wresting  from  their  hands  this  formidable  right  of  ballot?  Better 
for  the  man  who  would  propose  this  remedy  to  an  infuriated  multi- 
tude, that  he  should  stand  in  the  lightning's  path  as  it  descends 
from  heaven  to  earth. 

And  answer  me  this  question,  you  who  would  re-conquer  for  the 
few  the  power  which  has  been  won  by  the  many — you  who  would 
disfranchise  the  common  mass  of  mankind,  and  recondemn  them 
to  helots,  and  bondmen,  and  feudal  serfs, — tell  me,  were  they 
again  in  the  power  of  your  castles, would  you  not  again  neglect  them, 
again  oppose  them,  again  make  them  slaves? 

Better  that  these  blind  Samsons,  in  the  wantonness  of  their  gi- 
gantic strength,  should  tear  down  the  pillars  of  the  Eepublic,  than 
that  the  great  lesson  which  heaven,  for  six  thousand  years,  has 
been  teaching  to  the  world,  should  be  lost  upon  it — the  lesson  that 
the  intellectual  and  moral  nature  of  man  is  the  one  thing  pre- 
cious in  the  sight  of  God,  and,  therefore,  that  until  this  nature  is 
17 


258  WERNER'S   READINGS 

cultivated  and  enlightened  and  purified,  neither  opulence  nor 
power  nor  learning  nor  genius  nor  domestic  sanctity  nor  the  holi- 
ness of  God's  altars  can  ever  be  safe.  Until  the  immortal  and  god- 
like capacities  of  every  being  that  comes  into  the  world  are  deemed 
more  worthy,  are  watched  more  tenderly,  than  any  other  things, 
no  dynasty  of  men  or  form  of  government  can  stand  or  shall  stand 
upon  the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  the  force  or  the  fraud  which  would 
seek  to  uphold  them  shall  be  but  "  as  fetters  of  flax  to  bind  the 
flame." 


COLUMBIA'S   EMBLEM. 


EDNA  DEAN  PROCTOR. 


[I  am  much  interested  to  have  our  stately,  beautiful,  indigenous  grain 
— the  Maize,  Indian  corn — adopted  as  the  emblem  of  America. — Edna 
Dean  Proctor.] 


BLAZEN  Columbia's  emblem, 
The  bounteous,  golden  Corn! 
Eons  ago,  of  the  great  sun's  glow 

And  the  joy  of  the  earth,  'twas  born. 
From  Superior's  shore  to  Chili, 

From  the  ocean  of  dawn  to  the  west, 
With  its  banners  of  green  and  tasselled  sheen, 

It  sprang  at  the  sun's  behest; 
And  by  dew  and  shower,  from  its  natal  hour, 

With  honey  and  wine  'twas  fed, 
Till  the  gods  were  fain  to  share  with  men 

The  perfect  feast  outspread. 
For  the  rarest  boon  to  the  land  they  loved 

Was  the  Corn  so  rich  and  fair, 
Nor  star  nor  breeze  o'er  the  farthest  seas 

Could  find  its  like  elsewhere. 


AND    RECITATIONS.  259 

In  their  holiest  temples  the  Incas 

Offered  the  heaven-sent  Maize — 
Grains  wrought  of  gold,  in  a  silver  fold, 

For  the  sun's  enraptured  gaze; 
And  its  harvest  came  to  the  wandering  tribes 

As  the  gods'  own  gift  and  seal; 
And  Montezuma's  festal  bread 

Was  made  of  its  sacred  meal. 
Narrow  their  cherished  fields;  but  ours 

Are  broad  as  the  continent's  breast, 
And,  lavish  as  leaves  and  flowers,  the  sheaves 

Bring  plenty  and  joy  and  rest. 
For  they  strew  the  plains  and  crowd  the  wains 

When  the  reapers  meet  at  morn, 
Till  blithe  cheers  ring  and  west  winds  sing 

A  song  for  the  garnered  Corn. 

The  rose  may  bloom  for  England, 

The  lily  for  France  unfold ; 
Ireland  may  honor  the  shamrock, 

Scotland  her  thistle  bold; 
But  the  shield  of  the  great  Republic, 

The  glory  of  the  West, 
Shall  bear  a  stalk  of  the  tasselled  Corn, 

Of  all  our  wealth  the  best. 
The  arbutus  and  the  golden-rod 

The  heart  of  the  North  may  cheer, 
And  the  mountain-laurel  for  Maryland 

Its  royal  clusters  rear; 
And  jasmine  and  magnolia 

The  crest  of  the  South  adorn; 
But  the  wide  Republic's  emblem 

Is  the  bounteous,  golden  Corn ! 


260  WERNER'S   READINGS 

THE  MEANING  OF  THE  FOUR  CENTURIES. 


THE  spectacle  America  presents  this  day  is  without  precedent 
in  history.  From  ocean  to  ocean,  in  city,  village  and  country- 
side, the  children  of  the  states  are  marshalled  and  marching  under 
the  banner  of  the  nation,  and  with  them  the  people  are  gathering 
around  the  school-house.  Men  are  recognizing  to-day  the  most 
impressive  anniversary  since  Eome  celebrated  her  thousandth  year 
—the  four  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  stepping  of  a  hemisphere 
into  the  world's  life;  four  completed  centuries  of  a  new  social 
order ;  the  celebration  of  liberty  and  enlightenment  organized  into 
a  civilization.  And  while,  during  these  hours,  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment of  these  United  States  strikes  the  key-note  of  this  great 
American  day  that  gives  honor  to  the  common  American  institution 
which  unites  us  all,  we  assemble  here  that  we,  too,  may  exalt  the 
free  school  that  embodies  the  American  principle  of  universal  en- 
lightenment and  equality;  the  most  characteristic  product  of  the 
four  centuries  of  American  life. 

Four  hundred  years  ago  this  morning,  the  Pinta's  gun  broke  the 
silence,  and  announced  the  discovery  of  this  hemisphere.  It  was  a 
virgin  world.  Human  life  hitherto  upon  it  had  been  without  sig- 
nificance. In  the  Old  World  for  thousands  of  years  civilized  men 
had  been  trying  experiments  in  social  order.  They  had  been 
found  wanting.  But  here  was  an  untouched  soil  that  lay  ready 
for  a  neAV  experiment  in  civilization.  All  things  were  ready. 
New  forces  had  come  to  light  full  of  overturning  power  in  the  Old 
World.  In  the  New  World  they  were  to  work  together  with  a  mighty  - 
harmony.  It  was  for  Columbus,  propelled  by  this  fresh  life,  to  re- 
veal the  land  where  these  new  forces  were  to  be  given  space  for  de- 
velopment, and  where  the  awaited  trial  of  the  new  civilization  was 
to  be  made. 

To-day  we  reach  our  most  memorable  mile-stone.  We  look  back- 
ward and  we  look  forward .  Backward,  we  see  the  first  mustering  of 
modern  ideas;  their  long  conflict  with  Old-World  theories,  which 


AND   RECITATIONS.  261 

were  also  transported  hither.  We  see  stalwart  men  and  brave 
women,  one  moment  on  the  shore,  then  disappearing  in  dim  for- 
ests. We  hear  the  axe.  We  see  the  flame  of  burning  cabins  and 
hear  the  cry  of  the  savage.  We  see  the  never-ceasing  wagon  trains, 
always  toiling  westward.  We  behold  log-cabins  becoming  villages, 
then  cities.  We  watch  the  growth  of  institutions  out  of  little 
beginnings — schools  becoming  an  educational  system;  meeting- 
houses leading  into  organic  Christianity;  town  meetings  growing 
to  political  movements;  county  discussions  developing  federal  gov- 
ernments. We  see  hardy  men  with  intense  convictions,  grappling, 
struggling,  often  amid  battle-smoke,  and  some  idea  characteristic 
of  the  New  World  always  triumphing.  We  see  settlements  knitting 
together  into  a  nation  with  singleness  of  purpose.  We  note  the 
birth  of  the  modern  system  of  industry  and  commerce,  and  its  strik- 
ing forth  into  undreamed-of  wealth,  making  the  millions  mem- 
bers one  of  another  as  sentiment  could  never  bind.  And  under 
it  all,  and  through  it  all,  we  fasten  on  certain  principles,  ever 
operating  and  regnant — the  leadership  of  manhood ;  equal  rights 
for  every  soul ;  universal  enlightenment  as  the  source  of  progress. 
These  last  are  the  principles  that  have  shaped  America;  these 
principles  are  the  true  Americanism. 

We  look  forward.  We  are  conscious  that  we  are  in  a  period  cf 
transition.  Ideas  in  education,  in  political  economy,  in  social 
science  are  undergoing  revisions.  There  is  a  large  uncertainty 
about  the  outcome.  Bat  faith  in  the  underlying  principles  of 
Americanism  and  in  God's  destiny  for  the  Eepublic  makes  a  firm 
ground  of  hope.  The  coming  century  promises  to  be  more  than 
ever  the  age  of  the  people;  an  age  that  shall  develop  a  greater  care 
for  the  rights  of  the  weak,  and  make  a  more  solid  provision  for  the 
development  of  each  individual  by  the  education  that  meets  his 
need.  As  no  prophet  among  our  fathers  on  the  three  hundredth 
anniversary  of  America  could  have  pictured  what  the  new  century 
wy;,id  do,  so  no  man  can  this  day  reach  out  and  grasp  the  hundred 
upon  which  the  nation  is  now  entering.  On  the  victorious 
its  of  the  completed  centuries  the  principles  of  Americanism 


262  WERNER'S   READINGS 

will  build  our  fifth  century.  Its  material  j)rogress  is  beyond  our 
conception,  but  we  may  be  sure  that  in  the  social  relations  of  men 
with  men  the  most  triumphant  gains  are  to  be  expected.  America's 
fourth  century  has  been  glorious ;  America's  fifth  century  must  be 
made  happy. 

One  institution  more  than  any  other  has  wrought  out  the 
achievements  of  the  past,  and  is  to-day  the  most  trusted  for  the 
future.  Our  fathers  in  their  wisdom  knew  that  the  foundations 
of  liberty,  fraternity  and  equality  must  be  universal  education. 
The  free  school,  therefore,  was  conceived  the  cornerstone  of  the 
Republic.  Washington  .and  Jefferson  recognized  that  the  education 
of  citizens  is  not  the  prerogative  of  church  or  of  other  private  inter- 
ests; that  while  religious  training  belongs  to  the  church,  and  while 
technical  and  higher  culture  may  be  given  by  private  institutions, 
the  training  of  citizens  in  the  common  knowledge  and  in  the  common 
duties  of  citizenship  belongs  irrevocably  to  the  state.  We,  there- 
fore, on  this  anniversary  of  America  present  the  public  school  as 
the  noblest  expression  of  the  principle  of  enlightenment  which 
Columbus  grasped  by  faith.  We  uplift  the  system  of  free  and  uni- 
versal education  as  the  master  force  which,  under  God,  has  been 
informing  each  of  our  generations  with  the  peculiar  truths  of 
Americanism.  America,  therefore,  gathers  her  sons  around  the 
school-house  to-day  as  the  institution  closest  to  the  people,  most 
characteristic  of  the  people,  and  fullest  of  hope  for  the  people. 

To-day  America's  fifth  century  begins.  The  world's  twentieth 
century  will  soon  be  here.  To  the  thirteen  millions  now  in  the 
American  schools  the  command  of  the  coming  years  belongs.  We, 
the  youth  of  America,  who  to-day  unite  to  march  as  one  army 
under  the  sacred  flag,  understand  our  duty.  We  pledge  ourselves 
that  the  flag  shall  not  be  stained,  and  that  America  shall  mean  equal 
opportunity  and  justice  for  every  citizen,  and  brotherhood  for  the 
world. 


MOLLY'S 
PRENUPTIAL  FLIRTATION 

ILLUSTRATED   SOCIETY   MONOLOGUE, 

WITH    FULL  DIRECTIONS 

FOR   RECITING 

Can  be  Given  by  Woman  in  Costume  (including  Wedding 
Gown),  or  as  a  Burlesque  by  a  Man  Wearing  Woman's  Hat,  Muff, 
Wedding-veil,  etc. 


POEMS 

By  GEORGE  A.    BAKER 

POstiS  AND  DIRECTIONS  FOR  RECITING 

By  COZETTE   KELLER 


In  four  scenes,   so    arranged  that  either  one 
scene  only,  or  all  four  scenes,  may  be  given. 

Scene  I. —  His  Version  of  the  Flirtation. 
Scene  II. — Her  Version  of  the  Flirtation. 
Scene  III. — She  Breaks  the  News  to  Him  of  Her  Engagement 

to  the  Other  Man. 
Scene   IV. — Her  Observations  at  Her  Church  Wedding. 

13  Full-figure  Costume  Illustrations  from  Life 

Printed  on  Enameled  Paper  9JX  12  inches. 
Most  Artistic  Leaflet 

$1.00  net,  Sent  Postpaid  on  Receipt  of  Price 


ADDRESS  THE  PUBLISHERS 

EDGAR  5.    WERNER  &    CO. 

43  East  19th  Street,  New  York 


A  Text-Book  for  Re- 
quirements of  20th 
Century     Elocution 


:    [ 

• - 

i 
j 

[locJ; 

";Cs 

-* 

ON 
■  ! 

c 

-J  I 

Used  by  many  of  the 
Leading  Schools  in 
English -Spea.king 
America 


EL0CUT10 
AND 
ACTION 


BY 


F.  Townsend  Scmthwic 


Lessons  are  in  sequential  order  and  furni 
a  TR.UE  EVOLUTION  OF  EXPRESS!* 


Book  gives  an  up-to-date  method  of  teaching  expressior 
of  training  body  and  voice  to  express  whatever  thoughts  i 
within  the  person  to  express.  No  book  equals  this  in  i 
ciseness,  comprehensiveness,  directness, — iu  being 
representative  of  the  "new  elocution,"  in  ccntradistil 
tion  to  the  eld,  artificial,  superficial,  mechanical  elocutlj 
Complete  in  itself  and  makes  another  book  uanecessl 


Recitations  for  Practice  in  Connection  with  the  Lessol 

"Adams  and  Jefferson,"  "Against  Whipping  in  the  Navy,"  "Alexander  Ypsilanti,"  "Battl 
Naseby,"  "  Bells  of  Shandon,"  "Brutus  on  the  Death  of  Caesar,"  "Chambered  Nautil 
"  Charge  of  the  Light  Brigade,"  "  Christmas  Party  at  Scrooge's  Nephew's,"  "  Dedication 
Gettysburg  Cemetery,"  "Discontented  Pendulum,"  "Duel,"  "Echo  and  the  Ferry,' 
Descensus,"  "Fox  at  the  Point  of  Death,"  "Hamlet's  Instruction  to  the  Players," 
Riel,"  "Incident  of  the  French  Camp,"  "Langley  Lane,"  "Leper,"  "Little  Stowaway 
in  the  Moon,"  "Marmion  and  Douglas,"  "Mice  at  Play,"  "Mont  Blanc  Before  Sunrise,"  "O 
of  Roast  Pig,"  "Owl  and  the  Bell,"  "Owl  Critic,"  "Palmer's  Vision."  "Plain  Tale  of  i 
"Portia's  Speech  on  Mercy."  "Prodigal  Son,"  "Reading  for  the  Thought,"  "Scene  from 'J 
Caesar,'"  "Scene  from  '  The  Rivals,'"  "  Star  Spangled  Banner,"  "Supporting  the  Gu 
"Sweet  and  Low,"  "Sympathy  with  uhe  Greeks,"  "Selection  from  'A  Tramp  Abroad,'"  "Tw© 
Third  Psalm,"  "Two  Views  of  Christmas,"  "Wind  and  the  Moon." 

Also  Other  Selections 

"Americanism,"  "Destruction  of  Sennacherib,"  "Forging  of  the  Anchor,"  "France  and  Rocrij 
beau,"  "Fugitives,"  "Good  Courage,"  "Great  Schools  of  the  World,"  "Hand-Car  412."  "HI 
ing  Song,"  "If  Mother  Would  Listen."  "I'm  With  You  Once  Agr.in,"  "Issues  of  the  TransI 
Question."  "Liberty,"  "Lilies  at  Queens'  Gardens,"  "March  of  Company  A,"  ''Mince  Pil 
'  Old  Flag."  "Other  Side  of  the  Case,"  "Plea  for  Cuban  Liberty,"  "Religion  of  Trooper  PJ 
Halket,"  "Rome  and  Carthage."  "Sermon  on  the  Mount,"  "Shylock  to  Antonio,"  "Song  of 
Chattahoochee,"  "Speech  of  Black  Hawk,"  "Sultan's  Career,"  "Tea-kettle  and  the  Cricl 
"  Whip-Poor- Will,"  "William  McKinley,"  "You  Never  Can  Tell." 

WELL  PRINTED  AND  BOUND  IN  CLOTH,  $1.25,  N5T 


ADDRESS  ALL  ORDERS  TO 

EDGAR  S.  WERNER  &  CO.  43  East  1 9th  St ,  New  York 


